The City is rich with history:
Brewing beer and baseball,
Wades and Seligs,
Harleys and Les Pauls,
Liberaces, Houdinis,
And mother to Ingalls,
And brewing beer!
(Did I mention that all?)
The City likes its breweries.
Only in the water this is hidden.
The City sure doesn’t regret
Sloppily kissing the Michigan.
The Brewers won the World Series!
(Even if you claim they didn’t)
We’re all winners in Milwaukee
For Bucks in 6 is winning.
…I mean Sparta.
(Or was it Tomah?)
I know I should be smarter,
So sit down let me tell ya:
These are silly games we play,
Naming places after
The Greeks and the Romans.
Nowhere near Troy,
But somehow we’re still Trojans…?
I love it here.
Though it isn’t Greece or Rome,
This place is something special:
This is Monroe!
She kisses the bay—
Smooth as the seas,
Glossed with algae-green,
Molded by waves from the sun—
And comes back with green lips—
Cracked and speckled,
Moist and supple,
Tinted and curved
Matching her rolling backside.
“Land of 10,000 Lakes.”
Psh. Give me a break.
I’m here in Oneida
And I can’t even hide
From all the water:
Rivers (filled with otters),
Lakes, Creeks, Ponds
(Of which I’m particularly fond),
Oceans, seemingly!
I say that gleamingly,
Because there are just Great Lakes
That don’t seem to break
Even here, all the way outta
The way, in Oneida.
Filled with Grand Chutes and Little Chutes,
Kimberlys and Kaukanas.
Center in center
And Chicago at Corners.
Villed with Stephens and Macks,
Hortons and Greens,
Bear Creeks and Black Creeks
And all in between.
Tons of Apples,
For all to eat and see.
Everyone is welcome
In Outagamie!
The warm town of Cedarburg—
Where City Hall reads “High School”,
Where boutiques line the streets,
Where moonshine’s clear haze
Is distilled only neat,
Where ice cream is eaten with pigs,
And a park that tilts and leans
Overencumbered by kids and teens—
Is swarmed by species from the globe—
Strawberries and berry berries,
Bees and boys,
Those who like cinnamon,
And those who do not
But prefer turkey legs instead,
Those who can
(And will)
Drink their weight in infused blends of alcohol and fruits
While dancing to bands
They’ve never heard
And with friends
They’ve never met,
Those who watch their daughters timidly approach a goat
Intended for petting
While their sons sit atop a camel,
Those drunks who dress up as a strawberry
So people don’t push him away
But instead grip him with a hug
And ask for a picture.
Here in the warm town of Cedarburg.
An unordinary shape
For unordinary people
With pep in their step
And nowhere near feeble.
For they may be weird
But they’re damn sure proud of it.
In fact, prepare your ears
Cuz you’ll surely hear ‘bout it.
Whether you have a farm in the East
Or live on the river out West,
We’re all Pepin people!
The certified best!
At eye level, the breaking waves
Reveal squawking hawks
Reeling for cod
That lurk beneath
Above the reefs.
Below the foamy surface
Shy turtles dance with the weeds
And crawdads weave sunny threads,
But even more magic lies beneath.
Even further,
Crystals live
In a cave far down below,
Hidden from the thieving eyes
Belonging to the unenrolled.
Even the rivers
Can’t stand
This close to heaven.
Their currents fall
Toward the core
Bruising and smoothing
Rock along the way,
Testing roots’ strength,
And pounding
The hardened earth
Below.
Always rushing,
These falling waters,
Toward their lower home.
Here on the square
We run circles
In play
Bouncing from bar to bar
And place to place.
Losing ourselves,
We kick our feet
If to say:
“We have nowhere to be
Except for here,
Today.”
After piles of pretzels
And barrels of beer,
We cap our tough day
With a mind clear
Intent on relaxing
After our tough day—
Finding ourselves at Rusty’s
To push our cares away
From our tough day on the square.
This Is Just to Say 