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Feb 2021
That city never saw it coming

They sat upon the highest ledges,
Watching the storm rage below

That old deli on the corner of Main,
It always had a little arcade machine,
Street Fighter I think

Even Johnnie's tattoo shop,
Got swept away with gutter water,
And the tire store near Nick's

We couldn't do nothing,
Just watch the raging waters,
Tearing away my childhood;
All that beautiful
And ugly graffiti paint,
A backdrop of my memories

And when it was done,
Most everyone cheered

They cheered the coffee shops,
Applauded the free range grocers,
And kissed every brick;
Building a wall,
Around my memories

Who knew the river,
That same Cheyenne I loved,
Ran through barefoot,
Drank the runoff water,
And laughed in the warm swirls,
Would **** it all

I will mourn,
Each and every brown stone,
Chalk-stained sidewalk,
And homeless man,
Who would buy a fifth,
In exchange for a dime of ****

No one ever looked twice,
When my McDonald's cup,
Turned blue;
The bottom dropping out,
As alcohol eats all the edges

The city that was once mine,
Is now to be yours,
And someone else's,
Right as you get comfortable

True destruction,
Ain't got no target,
Nor does progress,
Far as I can tell.
Just a narrative poem with me musing and mourning my blissful childhood and the changes our world will always undergo.  For better or worse.  Sometimes building is the same as tearing down.
Michael Stefan
Written by
Michael Stefan  37/M/Minneapolis
(37/M/Minneapolis)   
140
       Imran Islam, --- and ---
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