A
small town is a delicate thing: a social butterfly’s wing. The tightnit community is not blessed
with the immunity enjoyed by corporations: their staff always in preparation
for the creation of a new branch. But
friends are more important than franchise, and our ties are unseen by their
eyes. We’re birds of a
feather though; we need flock together so that no one may not infiltrate us,
and we need to literate. Thus,
stay educated within and without.
Knowledge of route inspires the absence of doubt. Keeps us in and them out. Not inferring
that they may not join us, just don’t send them in bus after bus. Growing gracefully doesn’t mean
slowly, it only means that we are solely responsible for how we, the eggs,
respond to the entire shopping cart.
We could be smart and start to accept the world into our heart, or else
ignore it, and tempt the world to break us apart, causing us to dodge first
stone then dart. But put us down
on your chart, we didn’t dodge Wal-Mart.
When
65 speak against and 2 or 3 for, it’s not hard to determine out which
side of the score board should glow.
Traveling on the river of righteousness you can’t just go with the
flow; you have to row. But you got
your directions mixed up. You need
to get your compass fixed up.
You’re going upstream, paddling for the wrong team. You may not be trying to be mean or
seem like a fiend but you took a wrong turn and you’re about to learn
that there’s a waterfall ahead.
You’ve been misled.
Our mission statement is lying on your desk, unread. We’re trying to save our small
town and you’re the lifeguard that’s watching us drown. As the water swells above our head and
we give our last kick, you wait on the shore with our casket. You stole the ball from us and shot it
into their basket. Guilt is
written all over your face, there’s no way you can mask it.
When
Wal-Mart comes, they claim to beat the drums of fertility, increase our ability
to strive in this capitalistic society.
We give in and our small businesses burn to the ground, choking our town
that we founded hundreds of years before.
But there’s no way to retie the ribbon that they tore, for each
time we fight back they only establish more. Ashland will become forgotten lore, known simply as the
people who fought to close the doors of your favorite store. First we pave the forest, then each
other. Wal-Mart knows no brothers. Next: the southern hemisphere. Me must fear this giant that
doesn’t allow small towns to endear.
