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.