It’s a cannibal town:
A place with dark secrets
Where tall, stately manors
And storybook cottages
Carry out deceptions.

Hidden by flirting, calico curtains,
Obscured by the pastel piety
Of  bathtub Madonnas,
Savages await the chance
To feast upon their own.

With an appetite for rumor and innuendo,
They gobble down everything placed before them,
Unconcerned by worth or shame,
Unaware that they have not been nourished,
But rather, diminished by careless consumption.

Feigning polite chatter, vampires
Walk these tree-lined streets;
Thirsty for scandal, aroused by pain
Pausing only to spit out bits of flesh
Shredded along with simple truths.

And the anguish of those devoured
Goes unnoticed, as always—
Unimportant.  Inconsequential.
Carried away on the breeze
Like the benign music of windchimes.