DECOLLETAGE
(walking from Metropark station)
Family lines inside troopers nasty relatives
happy uncles the neighbor's kids the out-of-style
automobile parked up along the curb the sky-writing
on high the simple sound of the garbage truck always
the same the street-sweeper swishing by trailing water
the pealing bell at one o'clock the shadows along the bell
tower the mimic of architecture in everyday life the gravel
and gray stones abutting the railroad tracks and the people
all waiting at the station the men in their suits the girls in light
jackets the high boots the open-back shoes the briefcases the
doors the open-whine of something swimming through the air
the birds as I watch up above twisting and turning in flocks with
sudden maneuvers like wind no one else watching except the girl
about six feet away who also seems to be looking up with nothing
to say the office building across the way with its face of solid glass
the rock marking Thomas Edison the small hill I am walking the site
of where his house used to be the evergreens the silent darkness the
old foundations and the stairway down to the street which I walk up
slowly realizing it is so narrow it doesn't seem real there too an old
foundation and dense underbrush with layers of pine needles underfoot
and behind it all the high trees the very high trees the silent sobering
woods the paths worn through the center the stream and the pond the
new pushing greenery seeping out of the ground the birds the animals
the new Springtime swaying of tall trees.
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