Small Town Desires

The narrow alleys
your feet find familiar
worn pavement to brick down below
And the crumbling curbs
that wash to the gutter
in the shadow of the lamp post

And the red on white
and the whitewash on red brick
and brick on the wood beams and stone
While the white houses
with barely-kempt lawns
and wide porches stand all alone

but I need a numbered street
I need a tower
To watch yellow beetles race
at any hour
And a sweet old lady
whose temper turns sour
when we're up 'til 4 AM dancing
when we're up 'til 4 AM dancing