From my bedroom window I can see a major highway, a river, a set of busy railroad tracks, a dive roadhouse bar, a machine gambling cafe, an income-based apartment complex/drug house, 2 chemical plants, and the city service station. This city is a collection of prisons and escapes with blurred lines in between.
It is warmer here and feels like spring, the snow has fermented into rivers of mud and litter over pavement. The air feels like restoration and sex.
Ode to Springtime
Warm air licks front doors and drags the neighborhood drama into the open.
cigarette lighters flip,
Kites flap, gambling machines ping.
We woke up smiling when
a man chased a girl out of the local meth house last night shouting
"piss in my boot bitch!"
The police came, making notes on clipboards,
chasing blowjobs from strung-out toothpicks
wondering if they should drive away or wait for the next call to the same neighborhood.
Pastel smoke spews from chemical plant smokestacks
A dog drank the waste and threw up on our street.
Yesterday a car broke down here,
A short Ron Jeremy look-alike popped out
And loudly cursed at his young female passengers for 15 minutes
Before getting it running again and driving off.
I think he was their pimp.
But I didn't try to find out because he might have knifed me.
Oh, the beauty of spring
We live between the salvation army boarding house and the local mission,
The homeless parade never stops, splashing tattered shopping carts through oil puddles,
mostly schizophrenic, smelly, always asking for cigarettes, but filled with stories.
Pastel Smoke spews from chemical plant smokestacks
A beggar drank the water and threw up on our street.
Oh the beauty of spring.
This city is polarized, horrible but fabulous, destitute but determined, freakish but creative, callous but full of survivors. Should we move on, or am I mad enough for this to be home? How are things where you live?
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