Vol 10, Num 6 :: 2011.03.25 — 2011.04.07
You feel like this town —
Or this town feels like you.
Old and dependable with
Cobblestones and laid-brick homes.
They’ve been here
For as long as I can remember.
Pedestrians navigate streets with the alacrity
Of those who have lived in the same place for many years.
They know the barber, the butcher, the bookstore keeper;
They’re not going anywhere.
We’re not going anywhere either.
You feel like this town-
Or this old town feels like you!
I watch as it is washed clean
By late winter rains
Now, your face is all fresh and new
And the reds and greens and the browns come through.
Your eyes:
Pale blue panes set in cast iron frames
The strangest stained glass window I’ve ever seen.
When I walk by the church, in the rain,
I see myself.
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