Instead of asking the young
why they leave, the town votes
for mannequins in cafe windows.
Just imagine, the mayor boasts,
if this works we can expand
to schools and church pews!
Some say they should polish
them like postcards. Others want
to be sure they don’t show skin.
Everyone agrees they’ll hum
all the old songs, never ask about
trans-fats or almond milk.
They won’t mine for better jobs,
jam distant cities into search engines,
jar dreams, wager change drawers
on highways and stuff potential
into overburdened hatchbacks. Never
will the sap of their ambition
fill the potholes of distant streets,
melt into the hearty ridges of
a thicker slice, or wake up full.
Alison Terjek is an aspiring writer living in Northwest Connecticut. She has recently published poems in The Adirondack Review. She is a graduate of Western Connecticut State University and Park Nature Interpreter. She volunteers in her community, writes, travels and hikes whenever possible.
