White Trash Poem by Patti Masterman

The gas station has new owners;
though they do not show themselves much,
there is rumored fresh gas in the tanks.

While the old owner's girl sells out the last of the candy bars,
the son of the new owners sells fresh gas.

There is rumored to be a pawn shop and liquor store
also coming here; but for our part
we fear the arrival of the white trash crowd;
boozing and pawning their meager lives away,
perhaps casting about for something new to steal, to pawn-

Though I have yet to lay eyes on anyone new yet:
could it be I am the only white trash
that's blowing around the parking lot, just now?