Lawrence Beck
Mid-July in Mead, Nebraska
Just past four at Third and Main,
The sun has moved off west enough
To cast the brick facades of all the
Store fronts into shade, and yet
They radiate the morning's heat.
There's not a soul in sight. A couple
Cars, some pick-up trucks, are
Parked at angles to the sidewalk.
In this cauldron's only bar, a pair
Of care-worn barmaids carry
Pitchers of disgusting beer to
Farmers who have had enough
Of working outside on this day.
The roar of air conditioners
Defeats the music being played.
No one talks. It's too much work.
It's mid-July in Mead, Nebraska.
In the fields, the corn will grow
A half a foot on such a day, but
It will do so unobserved. The patrons
Will not go to watch. They're fine
At Third and Main.
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