Where Dallas Used to Be
Someone rich
Tore down the barrel rider's
Little yellow house.
The new owners, flush,
Built out to fill the lot
Mansion on mansion,
Looming.
It contains people
Who want to be contents
Of just such a house.
The barrel rider
Is out there still.
(But, you knew that, right?)
There should be more breakfast cereal poems in this world.
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