row homes stacked
one atop another
boarded, renovated, boarded, new, almost
ghosts sit atop our stoops
spirits hover above our decks
thousands stomping about the town
each with a hundred stories to tell
each feeling unheard
because we think we've heard it all
these streets are haunted
by children gunned down on corners
by philanthropists wandering their mansions
by shipyard workers, forever hauling crates
by doctors experimenting with fortune
her past is mixed with her present
while her future tries to ignore her own doings
hidden behind the big hair no one wears
distracted by pretty things reflected off harbor waters
lights twinkle atop monuments and steeples
warm fires burn under highways and bridges
fragrant steam floats up from the wounded roads
blue lights swirl about the darkest cross streets
surrounded.. .
the neighborhoods wonder
what lies beyond their routines?
a thousand glasses clink in a hundred pubs
celebrating life
simply
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