the streets are warped after
dilapidated buildings, cracked sidewalks
the sky, too, mourns in gray
as if my childhood never was
the sound of creaking everywhere
the smell of mile-high piled trash heaps
the taste of acrid tang—polluted air
the sight of old gardens left to wither
I sit and wonder where all the time went
I sit and wonder when park benches became sewage trenches
I sit and wonder where all of them went
what I remember? Gone.
as if my childhood never was.
but in tinted glass memories it lives.
the streets are freshly paved
thousand-window buildings, colorful-chalk sidewalks
the sky reckless, misbehaved
in mind’s eye, my childhood still talks
the sound of nails on a chalkboard
the smell of freshly shaven pencil led
the taste of cafeteria cardboard
the sight of the classroom door we all fled
on rainy days I hunch over science textbooks
I sit on park benches reading when there is sun
on cold days I brave the snow for a day of fun
I wonder about the future, the day I leave.
the streets are loud and bright and full of laughter
the streets are warped after