confetti - Ghosts of the Town

by Joseph Kleponis

“Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.” — Saul Bellow

It’s not a bakery anymore,
And the children walking by
On their way to or from school
Cannot smell fresh bread baking.

The barbershop is gone,
And the children walking by
Cannot see the men
Waiting in the green chairs,
Thumbing through magazines,
While others with sheets pulled under their chins
Chat with barbers
Who cut, shave, and trim.

The autobody shop is shuttered,
And the children walking by
Cannot hear the whir of electric grinders
Smoothing a fender,
Or the banging of metal
As a dent is straightened,
Or smell sweet, sick, intoxicating spray paint.

The gate to the playground is padlocked,
And the children walking by
Cannot run through the grass
To the swings or the slides.

The laundromat is long gone,
And the children walking by
Cannot stop to watch
The dizzying dance
Of clothes tumbling in dryers,
Or old kerchiefed women
Folding sheets and towels.

The corner store is condos now,
And the children walking by
Cannot buy licorice twists,
Bullseyes, or gumballs
For a penny
This city is no longer my city,
And so, you children walking by
Into memories of your own,
Making stories of your home,
Remember the contours of this street
That will, one day, be filled
With ghosts for you alone.