Saturday, August 13, 2011

Gallery

At twilight, just before Christmas,
I visited the old neighborhood.
Parking a couple of blocks away,
I peered around the corner
where a gauntlet of gray sentinels stood waiting,
their windows staring dead-eyed apathy at me.
These were still my streets, though, 
just older and uglier,
like me, the boy who used to run them.

For a second I thought of running again,
not through them, away.
Hanging back near the stoop of a dingy,
boarded-up brick dowager,
I despaired over the changes,
the darkness and strangeness
of a place I couldn’t remember
from forty-some Christmases ago.

The snow began to fall,
turning the parked cars into
four-wheeled wedding cakes,
looking for all the world like
they were waiting to be topped
by young brides and grooms
who would stand in “I-do” fidelity against this
backdrop of “no-you-won’t” transience.

Without warning, but with a flash or two
from humming street lamps
and the gumdrop blush
of snow-covered Christmas lights,
my changed neighborhood changed again,
if only for a short time.
It took on the glow of something new,
something right out of the box,
instead of the decaying piece of Albany
we had both become.

Staring at it all for one more minute,
like I was an old box camera--
a long, long exposure--
I burned a picture
I wanted to keep of something wondrous
I wanted to remember of something wonderful
that didn’t exist anymore or maybe
never did at all.




Here's a little longer one in response to the prompt for a CITY poem posed by my friend Claudia Schoenfeld at dVerse Poets Pub. She's running the Poetics shift this week.  This is about Albany and change and light. It's a look at my old neighborhood in a quite different light, with an older set of eyes and a newer heart. 

17 comments:

  1. man...i was feeling all kinda magical remembering my old stomping grounds and loving the freshness that snow can bring...those last couple lines settle hard with melancholy...very nice write though joe...

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  2. where a gauntlet of gray sentinels stood waiting,
    their windows staring dead-eyed apathy at me.
    These were still my streets, though,
    just older and uglier,
    like me, the boy who used to run them.

    Honesty that cuts and haunts in a poem that succeeds in its long exposure that reveals only transience and mirage. Well done.

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  3. I've had the same experience not long ago in the town where I grew up. You recreate the feelings of diappointment mixed with nostalgia for a time that once was. Especially effective use of sensory detail, Joe.

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  4. Everyvery time I go back "home" its city seems to get smaller and smaller. Never the same. Except for the feeling when remembering. Nice work.

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  5. this brought back some memories when i visited the part of town i grew up in...it's kinda strange when seeing it with grown up eyes...and i always thought i see my running around, playing ball with my friends while standing there and soaking up the atmosphere...touching write my friend.. and off-topic...i don't want to complain but you still have the old and decaying splittergewitter corpse in your sidebar...smiles

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  6. Odd how we do see things so differently, not only with added years, but sometimes with the blink of an eye, a street, a building can take on an entirely different look. Wonderful imagry here with the snow covered autos turning into wedding cakes. Ha! Poignant nostalgia throughout. Cheers, Joe!

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  7. As always your ending illuminates the message with precision and a cutting edge. The clear imagery is also stripped down and all the more effective for it. ("..gumdrop blush.."--perfect!) I have never gone back to my old stomping grounds--physically, but I burned their pictures deep. Fine writing, Joe.

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  8. Awwww kinda of sad how time is reflected by our surroundings yet our memories are always so crystal clear of the good times ...ancient cities are the place to be where time stands still,the buildings always old and decaying but charming perhaps some beauty comes with age !

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  9. Felt as though I was curled up on the coach, my own Christmas eve, and was looking at you through my window, a stranger, starring down the lane as snowflakes fall. What a wonderful voice, Joe...The memories, the changes, some welcome, most not. Loved it...but you already knew I would! :) Happy Vacay!

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  10. This is wonderful-- love the wedding cake image; your imagination is still plundering that place/those memories, no? xxxj

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  11. '...I wanted to remember something wonderful
    that didn't exist anymore, or maybe
    never did at all'

    Think as we get older, our memories take on a life of their own while the reality is that things have moved on and will never be quite the same again. Loved the piece, but think the writer a bit too hard on himself in the line '...the decaying piece of Albany we had both become.'

    Always look forward to reading each new piece you write, Joe.

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  12. young brides and grooms
    who would stand in “I-do” fidelity against this
    backdrop of “no-you-won’t” transience.

    I like the way you used story to convey such a meaningful event... a beautiful write.
    4 wheeled wedding cakes :)

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  13. The best personal invention, cameras that was the bast lines I've read thus far."I wanted to keep of something wondrous
    I wanted to remember of something wonderful"

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  14. Loved the last lines. I've been taking such pictures, so it hit me square where it should have.

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  15. Really enjoyed this piece Joe. The character you built into the "hometown return" was magnificently done. ~ Rose

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