Unless hot lunch at school
was serving something special
like corn chowder
and baking powder biscuits
or creamed chipped beef
potatoes and brownies
I went home
to what my
mother made
like most town kids
Jack walked the furthest
almost to the river
to his unpainted house
by the railroad tracks
We all knew nobody was there
his mom at the tavern already
He always came back
just in time for the bell.
Peggy Trojan, Local News: Poetry about Small Towns (MWPH Books, 2019)
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