My Urban Pt III

That roll played long ago:

The fantasy of streetside hangs,

And easy drunken mornings turned day long


Of downtown ownage.


We had that place.


We always had the itch

Of corporate daytime fate,

And sometimes wondered longingly

About those people..


But she showed me how to shoot up in the park

And the shadows never turned again.


Now I wonder these streets,

Those tenth floor lights,

Of some monster corporate outpost tower:

Why should I cry a tear?

When I missed that place completely

In the fiction that memory so elaborately crafts.

That time

That place: Spent

Wondering elsewhere.


Age is just an ability

to revisit old places

With the remembered energy of youth

And that largeness still stretching out

Beyond and back then,



The anger never happened,

The stroll is easy,

And the park is a shady break,

From the early August sun,

Casting its heat across everything

I ever knew.