deepundergroundpoetry.com
On Jackson Island
We had left Wetumpka crossing over the arched bridge that spans the Coosa having seen the Big Fish house mounted on the hillside with white picked fence.
On Jackson Island never had friendlier goats I'd seen anywhere
And how they loved to climb the fake trees,
Where I looked down the single street of Spectre's fictional town.
The pretty fake houses, the lovely fake church at the end.
What a shame the fake brick buildings have all burned
And I had no shoes to throw over the line between the post.
I visited neither too soon nor too late and drove it's perimeter twice round, but saw no snakes or alligators as the sign had warned.
I saw no naked woman swimming nor a big fish anywhere as the movie portrayed.
There was no witch, no foretelling of the future.
Still it was like a dream; beautiful, yet only a fabrication.
I drove away from the dream like all other dreams,
Taking with me only the memory of it.
On Jackson Island never had friendlier goats I'd seen anywhere
And how they loved to climb the fake trees,
Where I looked down the single street of Spectre's fictional town.
The pretty fake houses, the lovely fake church at the end.
What a shame the fake brick buildings have all burned
And I had no shoes to throw over the line between the post.
I visited neither too soon nor too late and drove it's perimeter twice round, but saw no snakes or alligators as the sign had warned.
I saw no naked woman swimming nor a big fish anywhere as the movie portrayed.
There was no witch, no foretelling of the future.
Still it was like a dream; beautiful, yet only a fabrication.
I drove away from the dream like all other dreams,
Taking with me only the memory of it.
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