Small siren song
Jim Banholzer
Once, a small town girl became enthralled by sounds of sirens.
Her heart would race up in steps.
She bought a scanner so that she could chase ambulances, became a reporter
Legally changed her fitting name to Beth Ann
Stood on a tin pan and strongly sang, “A hemp anthem item.”
After trapping a boyfriend into a dysfunctional relationship, she started creating her own emergencies, to get what she must have.
The town was too quiet for her big dreams, so she moved to Vegas.
We all know somebody like her.
Every town has her siren clangor, who makes appointed rounds.
Always Klung on some foreign channel.
One rang the Town Bell to cheer merry old New England.
Smoked Salem cigarettes –three at a time- to resist the temptation of calming thoughts.
Ran her boys off to war, so they could escape her prism.
They oughter sew her 3-D into the next American flag.
Her likeness casts its beacon shadow as a gutter ball down Wall Street’s blood alley.
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