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Post-Morden Juke Box Experiences
There are time capsules in the rural Mid-West,
not retro constructs, but temporal dislocations
that remain as was,
for lack of a reason to be other.
Small town restaurants are steeped
in a comfortable inertia;
diners serve
all broasted, broiled and breaded everything.
Amish noodles nestle in thick white bowls.
There are still drive-in movies
where movies once missed
can be missed again.
We have bars where the jukebox is not a junk box
but a wood and chrome depository
for long archived selections.
Beer here is brewed as brawny
as rolled-up forearms.
We’re futuristic in a plaid and dilatory way.
We are post-modern Jetson reruns,
we dwell just West of the middle of tomorrow.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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