When no one but the locals are around   you will see them as they gather at the   center of this town to pay homage to their   monolithic patriarch who stands so tall   he’s seen from miles around       They worship for the gifts that he bestows   like the water that they drink and use to   wash their dusty cloths, and the way he   represents them to the passers-by who constantly go trickling down the road.   They will do as they are told.       The old folks know their time has past for usefulness and   things that don’t last,   but they laugh themselves to sleep as they retire.   cause they remember when they built the frame   that holds that head that bears the name,   but the young ones shake their heads and call them liars.       They know that someday he will come around   and he’ll realize he’s far too good for their Midwestern town,   and he’ll pack his things and mover to where the people are,   the southern coast where he’ll become a star.