there’s something about midwestern folk
hidden in the pine and oak
lurking in plain view
unsettling
–
warm façade, mad laughter, grin askew
venom tongues drip beaded dew
grifting and peddling
con artists
–
faced with change they commence with nettling
if that won’t work then kettling
purged weeds for harvest
cut down quick
–
doctrine states
it’s too late