|Cover of Falling Star|
Greensburg. Where I Am.
Roughly forty five minutes south of Pittsburgh
with large chain stores & restaurants that guard the outskirts of the city limits
and house some of the finest locally owned jewelry stores & fresh produce shops
on this side of the east coast.
Stores and shops that no one ever goes to
because they're all too busy trying to find a bargain
on already spoiled milk and brownish lettuce,
next to the same shirt that every girl owns from the closest Wal-Mart,
as they complain via the Trib
about how they need to stop buying everything from major corporations
and start to find some place family owned to buy their shit.
About one hundred and one miles north west of Breezewood,
which is only known for its rest stops and gas stations
along the Lincoln Highway where the PA Turnpike meets I-70
and where traffic lights oddly appear to interstate highway travelers.
Only two hundred and thrity six miles from Alexandria Virginia,
where you currently reside in a two bedroom walk up with a lesbian roommate,
without cable and without a real job to hold on to.
Roughly six miles from Washington DC,
has the highest average income in the state,
houses the national headquarters for the Salvation Army
and is listed as the top city in the nation for online charitable giving,
but still, won't give you back to sweet little, spoiled milk buying, Trib reading,
Alexandria. Where I'd rather be.
This piece was written over a year ago, when MJ was in his last semester of undergrad, but was doing an internship in Virginia, while I was still at Seton Hill. Feel free to leave me your thoughts on it.