The sign post is gone---
The house I once live in, demolished
A few kids hanging out (convincing each other
that life has no meaning) pass around a bottle
of Jim Beam Whiskey
On the lot just a few bricks are left---Are these the
ones that I didn't have the courage to throw back
The ones that grazed my head back in '56
What is the name of this street?
Where is the fence I jumped over, the German
bakery, the dogs that snarled and chased me,
tomato plants that provided our ammunition?
Not far away---under the bridge a mail truck crashed
For weeks I would read letters written by grown-ups
Hunt down packages tha contained nothing
useful for an eight year old---
It was here while growing up that the world tried
to confuse me---A tooth fairy who never left
anything under the pillow---Kids stealing my lunch,
Trying to learn the English language, feeling like an
outsider---thinking I would never have friends
The people who lived here
Did they ever enjoy some small victory, did they
feel the pain as they slept in the cold Rats
rendering useless their fingers and toes?
What would I say---what purpose of
good if I found someone I knew
Back then despair was an angel with one wing
Opportunity---a parked Rambler with fancy hubcaps
Sometimes I would go down the hill to the tracks
Bash cat tails over the rails---listen to the hoboes
And those few stories that I believed,
all of them forgotten now---
We all grew up on a street like this---
Somehow we managed to survive our failures
Absent minded, we now fall prey to our pompous
dreams---Ignore stop signs, forget to mail out
birthday cards
As we wait for the morning paper---Is there
anything so far away---so distant from the heart,
that it couldn't recognized a Hank Williams song?
The street isn't important---
Just the memories
Reason for writing:
Thinking back to childhood days---wanting to
write about actual events---
Birth sign: Not entered
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