Wig City Poem by Richard Jarboe

Haven't been back here since '72,
It's been a while, I'd say that's true,
This place has no time, my friend,
The Wig City Limits have no end.

This place got no rhythm,
Wig City has a no rhyme,
When the past is the future,
You lose your sense of time.

Wig City has no address,
There's no zip code to access,
The spacial vibration is too intense,
And the street signs make no sense.

When you pull into the driveway,
Stop slinging gravel from your wheels,
Think of the privilege being alive,
Then think about love and how it feels.