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