God Dresses Differently Here

God may be in control in Shrewsbury
In Worcester, it’s not so clear

There, the granite curbstones pop your tires
and the children call you names

You say you’re only visiting and they humor you
They’ve heard that one before, hear it every day,
It seems like all they ever hear

They’ve made their peace with the old men
who hold court in a Dunkin’ Donuts,
reciting Red Sox games to each other

Maybe God’s mercy does rain down
on the pastel houses and athletic fields of Shrewsbury,
on its amateur real-estate speculators
idling in European sports cars

They see themselves as winners
and see little else
They leave you hungry in a different way

In Worcester, they shrug at that God and His plans
They drink and fuck and are relieved by neither
They have a resignation, a desperation and a hilarity
that seems its own kind of holiness

They at least have the kindness
To say they’re happy
you’ve found your way out

– Colin Dodds

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