Shrimp Town

Shrimp Town, my adopted, for-now home,

has been growing lately, stretching from the center

in veins of ranch houses with hip roofs, which look

like volcanos from above.  And like veins too are the little

strip malls with their hardened-lava parking lots. 

So sometimes the old, old-fashioned center looks a little deserted,

especially on a Sunday afternoon.

But there are also things to explore,

especially on this particular Sunday afternoon,

when the sky is yawning sunshine after a long winter's nap.

In fact, when I looked, I found life all around.

There was the seed store, and the music shop

 where I bought strings for my guitar last spring.

Two old friends walked past — how many afternoons have they shared? 

"I want that jukebox!" one said to the other, as they looked in the music store's window.

The old town, 

only for a little while neglected in the excitement 

over volcano-brick ranch houses, 

is perhaps feeling young again, or vindicated:

"Downtown Revitalization and Waterfront Park"

in full swing.

It feels happy, if a town can, 

that today its sidewalks were trod

by families having a sushi lunch or 

playgoers lining up outside its little theatre.

What is the biography of your hometown?