They say there’s an epidemic of porn.
But not in Sacramento,
Where men without money to attract a woman lust over trees,
When they’re naked,
And the limbs look like thighs,
Crotches sprouting delicate green grass that blows softly in the wind,
And they stick their face in it.
Determined not to give up.
Store on J Street sold hardware and guns.
Gentry didn’t like the gun part.We believe in peace.
Got their revenge, but betrayed the neighborhood.
Bought their nuts and bolts in the burbs.
Store hung on as long as it could.
Stayed in business cuz cowboys rode in for peacemakers.
Try as Midtown does to be world class,
We’re still a cow town.
An expensive one.
Trees dying a death as slow and heartbreaking as the nation’s.
Not as many leaf blowers,
the silence isn’t golden.
It should have freed us,
we smile at almost no one.
Could you recommend Midtown?
What would you say?
There’s slobs here,
Fear and suspicion everywhere?
We need more people in Midtown.
So many we love to make eye contact.
Lost in the rush,
Not afraid to trust.
How many people walking slowly in the dark,
Loving our trees, our magic,
Have been attacked, their faith shattered?
Trees no longer sacred but hiding places,
Midtown no longer magical but scary?
Somewhere in Midtown
Tobacco loving sinner
Smokes in the dark.
A zen moment.
Like the breaking and retreating of a wave,
The rise and fall of the tide.
Smoke rising like incense.
Cigarette glowing like a beacon.
Guy didn’t look right leaving the stately house.
What’s wrong with him?
Then she bounded down the steps,
panties and t-shirt.
screaming as she confronted him at the curb.
He didn’t respond.
You could tell he felt naked.
Boomers remember sleeping in the yard,
on the porch,
Before midtown became infested with their
their cheap thrills,
the creeps that go with them,
the fear that haunts us today.
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