Two prisons in Pueblo.
One for mongoloids,
one for women.
That’s how the joke starts.
But that’s enough.
Says a lot.

Two restaurants in Pueblo.
Anyone can go to either,
but they don’t.
Decent food,
good for Pueblo.
People passing through
don’t know they’re picking a side.

Two bars in Pueblo.
Empty except for the stools
and dead neon.
In one window,
an invitation.
On another,
a warning.

Two roads in Pueblo.
The way in
and the way out.
People with pieces missing
arrive with hope.
That’s really the joke.
Two of everything but
none of what they’re looking for.

There are two prisons
in Pueblo.
One for retards,
the other for women.
That’s how the joke starts
anyway.
But the beginning is enough.
Tells you a lot, actually.

There are two coffee shops in Pueblo.
Anyone can go to either, but
they don’t.
It’s good coffee,
good for Pueblo
anyway.
People stopping for snacks
don’t know they’re picking a side.

There are two
art galleries in Pueblo.
Empty except for the paintings
and photos and sculptures.
In one window, a sign.
“We have Wifi!”
On another, a warning.
“No bathroom.”

There are two roads in Pueblo.
The way in and
the way out.
People arrive
in search of missing pieces.
Because that’s the joke.
Two of everything and
none of what they’re looking for.