-Perspective-

I'll take a short drive

Then a short walk

Deep into the west-end of town

To the river,

Navigating the spiked,
Rough-meadow grass
Where the biting thistles
Cling fast to my socks.

I've come here
In order to take the measure
Of what’s left of the abandoned
Railroad tracks
Running southward to Providence.

A few of the old boxcars remain,
Broken as they are

But even the bums ignore them.

Eastward, the granite
City rising behind me

Looks like a battered
Heavyweight
Lifting from the crouch
To deliver or take the final blow.

It's a short walk
Then a short drive westward,
Crossing the bridge spanning the river

And looking eastward across the water,

The city is inhabited but motionless.
The compression of the tenement houses
Clinging to the hillside seem timeless
In their tenacity to exist.

It's the structure which draw me in.

Its sleeves
Are rolled to the elbows
But it looks weary.
Its hair is cut sharply

But its fingernails are dirty.
It doesn't appear interested
In trying to convince anyone of anything
And maybe I traveled westward from
The riverbank to the riverbank

Looking to find something I long ago knew.

                                             Fall River