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