oh dearborn I don’t know how to evoke the city sometimes I recall ford’s english school my forefather’s stiff neck       proudly waving that new flag   no more tweed suit your neighbors all gathered around them too with agents that came to their house too     the yard never smelled the same since ford taught   you stand sit quietly at the dinner table   to boil your wife along too the children shouldn’t ululate     no licking the arabic like that    better polish your boots better shine like that you better have counted your civic lessons      spread the checkered table cloth and square dancing lessons this would become your tribal comfort a maintenance of your personal relationships the men named advisors      after once investigators those men throwing all of her scarves into the trash can one picking out her set of china   some white curtains with lace while one tightened your work boots clearing the lumber from the yard    before passing off your diploma      as if to say      for your own godspeed      they’d be back for a photograph