The pidgeons coo at me from the roof of there
But today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
The bowling alley is a bit further down
But nobody knows when it’s open
Their sign is on at the oddest hours
Seeming to imply what cannot be.
The flags wave limply from the roof
But today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
The light blue dingy gray Trang-bai café
Quietyly sits not drawing attention
You’d never know 2 people were killed there
Unless you walk past it every day.
The bullet holes are circled in bright orange paint
But today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
My bus stop is really a church doorway
Without a cross or a steeple
Their K-12 school is across the street
I’ve always wanted to know what their life is like.
The kids stare as they go inside
But today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
There’s the copy place that used to be a Dightman’s
The real estate and the chinese take-out
Not dingy like the apartments
But you can tell they’re well worn.
These places are always quiet in the morning
But today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
I’m not white trash nor inner-city
I live on a tree lined street
With white picket fences and flowers in the yard
But I walk a block every day and change
40th turns into 39th then 38th
And today they’re all wet
Because it’s misty
And quiet
And mine.
6/4/99