Sure, there are Dunkin cups in the gutter, and the light pollution blocks any hope of seeing northern lights, and the kitchen window view is three houses, a bus yard, and Golden Arches in the distance. But imagine walking to a coffee shop or the grocery store or the mechanic when your battery dies for the third time in a month, and see what’s there at a ground level, human pace. Find a little free library on the side of a busy road stuffed with bookmarks and novels. Catch a world tour whiff of small takeout spots (Brazilian, Domincan, Korean), spices and cultures and deep fried something. Hear a fleeting beat from an old car radio playing reggaeton or hip-hop. Pass the rundown houses with tiny ground floor hair salons and appliance shops. Pause under the trees at a baseball field. Notice the strange derelict beauty of wildflowers in an abandoned lot, and a scribble of graffiti to say “I am here.”
🖊️ NovPAD Week 2 Update - 4 out of 7 days
This one was for the prompt “cities” and came from scraps of an abandoned essay I wrote the week I found myself walking home from the mechanic for the third time in a month.
I love to write a nature poem and, like I said last week, will drive a full half hour to take my dog for a walk somewhere outside the city, away from cars and noise. At the same time, cities have a beauty of their own, and a lot of interesting things to notice. So here’s a little love note to Fall River and city life in general.
This came out in a big long stream of consciousness brain dump, then I chopped off the opening and closing sections. I read it on a Poetry Pub Zoom call a couple nights ago, and when I said I was sad to cut the part about how I can kind of see a McDonald’s sign from my bathroom / kitchen window, j j b r i n s k i said “oh no put that back or write another poem about it.” So the new first stanza is me returning some of the weird little images I was sad to cut. Thanks JJ!
This is great! Thanks for sharing it.
LOVE IT Jen! As usual.