These muscles, ground down by time,
And not I alone, but the old, decaying
Buildings that began their blight
Well before the last decade passed,
And this damnable one began.
It is still cold in winter,
Where old homes loom, linger
As we traipse the old sidewalk’s path, my
Mother’s dog joyous, despite the dying
Yards in disrepair, dancing astride green
Dreams kept well, though they too fade
Equally into winter brown and tan.
A little further on, and new neighbors, forbidding
Us their lawns, bespeckled with
Cameras, waving warnings. “You, will fall in line,
Or away with you! ” so like many others, I
Go into the far off, flight landing, warm but under
A steady rain.