Originally posted 4/23/2012.
Growing up in
Fitchburg, or Pittsfield
gives us permanent
whenever we proudly speak
our hometown names
a seagull in Boston fires from the sky
and ruins an Acura’s windshield,
a raw wool sweater in Northampton
catches on an antique nailhead,
and somewhere on the Cape
an overpriced lobster bites back.
We wake up some mornings
and realize how handsome we truly are.
It’s enough to make us empty a mill
and start a revolution inside.