My Town

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We don’t live in trailers
they’re manufactured homes
strollers are ghetto
we escort our children by chariot
as we drink skinny caramel lattes
and pretend we’re busy with our phones

In this town
at the gate of the Canadian Rockies
In this town
In a postcard where we all say cheese

we don’t go for walks
some of us hike the reals ones trek
they say “you better watch out, man
I almost broke my neck”
our response is a relaxed
“don’t worry buddy, I can do it
better than you anyways”

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2 thoughts on “My Town”

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