The neighborhood is gone

Familiar faces

Nowhere to be seen

Portland cement hides

The dusty street below

Progress left its scars

Razed our shotgunhouse

And poured an interstate

The corner gang no more

So precious few

Can be accounted for

They are the ones

Who lie so still and cold

Beneath incongruous slabs of stones

With names of bare foot friends

I used to know


Copyright Louis Brown