The street was paved last week.

The street on which my house dwells was paved last week.

The street on which the majority of my childhood took place was paved last week,

And I will never again see

The spraypaint

Spelling that stranger's name,

Or the cracks seeping

Through the surface of the pavement.

And I will never again see

The same faded grey patches

Covering those same old potholes

Disintegrating into the same suface

Of the faded grey street.

 

All those flaws that were once created

In the surface of the street

Are gone.

There's a new surface now--

One that I feel is meant for a new generation.

 

There are no flaws in the new surface--

It's perfectly smooth black pavement;

It's not yet endured a hard winter

Full of slippery snow and ice

And burning salt and sand,

And it's not yet endured a hurricane or a lightning storm

Full of fallen trees and crashed cars.

 

And it hasn't seen much distress of any family,

And it hasn't seen much of the distress of mine,

So why do I still cringe when I turn back onto the new pavement

Of the old street,

On which my childhood home dwells,

After only one day parted?