Requiem of a Neighborhood
There goes the pop shop,
on the corner of 42nd
with pop rocks,
where the Candy Lady beckons
in flip-flops
Her favorite beat, to cook-out meat,
who laughs at me, with two left feet
(Now she's gone.)
Now, there goes the empty lot
Where we all grew up, or not
Back when we used to lick
snot, and play hopscotch
and say, I wonder, does he like me,
or not?
There goes the resilience
and the broke asphalt
The personality, the bang,
and the fifty cent pop
Oh no, there goes the vibrant soul!
Trampled, pissed on, yellow-snowed
Glory, the things people will try to own
My Home, but not alone
ET to phone, my old block towed
feeling like the twilight zone
Missa pro defunctis -
a eulogy, for punk kids
who grew up in this part of town
and wore this street like a crown
who can't afford a down payment now
Here lies My neighborhood,
May it rest in pieces.