Whitman by Mathew Brady |
from Whitman:
Here's my try at a poem, conversational, listing qualities of an urban setting:
Downtown
Walking in the heat I see a sign, spelled wrong,
"no parking in allyway," the Goodwill Store, the warehouse, once
Lewis Lumber. Last summer this street was home to a bent
man with a lisp, he sold tomatoes,
cantaloupes, and corn
Wednesdays and Saturdays. Now he's moved to Boca Raton,
his job taken over by the Amish woman waiting with
her grandson, straightening
baskets of green beans, red and yellow
peppers, rough-ruby beets, celery, bright white onions all
out of her garden, picked in blistering sun but soon you learn
they were actually trucked in last week
from Arkansas.
Note: I got this idea from a photo of "no parking in allyway" I took in my home town in Western Kentucky. I began with the first line and the rest of the lines just came to me as I wrote the poem and remembered another conversation I'd had later with an Amish woman. It's really just three or four sentences. When I edited this poem I worked on word choice and played around with spacing in order to add some musical rhythms and give some phrases more importance.
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