This history, our history, in these buildings on these streets.
Burnt or left standing, elbows out for you and yours, We
Are coming back, with family. In eight pages or less.
Stay out of our way or we blow your house down. Break
Your fucking nose. Signed, The Gypsy Clampetts, or else
The Blancett family to you.
For Art. For the Mutually Assured Destruction History Project.
Moving back in order to eventually bury you. In Sixty years or less.
For Love of you, in this fucked-up town. Forever,
And our mutual family. You who are reading this,
You who are part of it. You will get yours,
I swear. Because I have never yearned for anything
So much as to return, in all my life.
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