Small Town Films

Where nothing happens, and it changes everything.
The middle of nowhere, center of my life.
Small town, long memory.

We stayed because the light did.
Gas station neon holding back the dark,
streetlights doing their best with what’s left.
One stoplight and a thousand almosts.

Everyone knows your name, not your story.
Quiet houses, loud memories.
We grew up circling the same four blocks;
the streets remember who we tried to be.

This is what forever looked like when we were kids,
practicing leaving on roads that looped back.
Every back road a half-finished sentence,
the sign always saying NOW LEAVING
the place you never really leave.

There’s always one porch light on, just in case.
Population: anyone still believing in second chances.
The wind knows every empty lot by name,
one barking dog guarding the whole universe.

We outgrew the town, not the ache.
Long roads, short futures, soft hearts.
A slow town, never a still heart.

Author: Renee Newlon

I am a Turkish American writer and photographer. I work in short-form prose, poetic fragments, and photography. I don’t photograph the event; I photograph the moment after the event. A few things that stay with me: Plato’s Cave, Oberg’s Culture Shock, and Beethoven’s Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours. My greatest teacher was my college philosophy professor, Sister Jane Sullivan, who taught me how to think and how to see. View all posts by Renee Newlon