hillcountry loser.

about family that you can and cannot choose.

 

Oh hillcountry loser
you are an eyesore to my homeland
a stain on a page, fought over and died upon
you are the sort of non-person my mother would talk about
the sort of face I'd smile extra-wide at
careful not to be condescending
I'd promise to come see you
with your five children
and your badly dyed hair
I'd promise this as I drank the cold beer that you gave me
and as I mentioned before
when I got back home and told her where I'd been
my mother would talk about you
and how much better we are
how it was good to not see you
and I'd feel guilty
for not coming to see you