the grass is always greener

She wasn’t particularly beautiful
even though her mama had named her after
Elvis and Priscilla’s own
when Elvis reigned king in these parts -
but Lisa Marie Smithwhick was good.

She raised her younguns to believe in the Lord
read Woman’s World magazine, canned beans in the summer,
was in the recipe circle at church, always had perfect daylilies, coached softball, and believed the stories on the Lifetime channel.
Her doublewide was gonna be paid
for in the Fall and she wasn’t yet 43.

Every Wednesday night when Mr. Merritt, Lisa Marie’s neighbor,
watches Jeopardy and reads the paper, he hears
Lisa Marie’s boyfriend comin’ down the alley
in his ole ‘72 Ford -
glasses perched precariously on
the edge of his nose,
never liftin an eye from the page,
he says to his wife
“tonight’s Lisa Marie’s sex night”
This is the steady momentum by which her world runs.

Cinnamon Rose Southall
was the antithesis of all of these things.
She never used a recipe when she cooked,
hated TV, could kill a silk plant,
had moved 6 times in the last 7 years,
read Russian poetry, didn’t believe in softball
and sometimes wondered about the Lord –
‘cept at sunset and when she held her babies.
Then the Lord was real to her.
She was a bit of a gypsy.
‘Wayward’ is what her Grandma had called her.

No one woulda ever thought they could meet at the fence
and talk ‘til the mosquitoes started bitin’.
The daylillies leavin dust on their knees as they
discussed the grocery’s ad, local headlines,
giggles, tomato vines, and gossip.

Lisa Marie had finally convinced her Mama
that the girl with the funny name was just like them,
worthy of being spoken to when she bumped into her
down at the dollar store
and
Cinnamon Rose always walked away wonderin’
what it felt like to have someone love you enough
to save Wednesday nights just for you.

An interchange of worlds completely separate
existing calmly within each other.

^{Maybe they should send some chain link fence
and daylillies to the Middle East, instead of tanks.}