Poetic Muse I

THE STREET IS NOT FOR SALE

The street is not for sale

Even though progress claimed it

Even though I left it

The street is not for sale

Even though I need the money

Even though it isn’t funny

The street is not for sale

It goes beyond the pale

Spiders, smells, and the odd snail

The street is not for sale

Best memories keep intact

You prise ‘em out with a jack

It’s all my front and all my back

My rearview and my heart-beat attack

My ancient recall and all

Reference to better times

Memory and emotion intertwine

The street is not for sale

It could have been somewhere else

A thousand streets in Paris or Rome

A back alley at the Picturedrome

A spontaneous sneeze before I leave

Taste the street at my feet

You can see now – why I think it’s neat

A special-any-old-asphalt surface

Always my purpose…

To return again and again – but

Times change – we move away

We have less to know and more to say

About the childhood street I do picture

It emerges at the end of my finger

Hung up on the wall

– pencil, pen and ink – fountain or ball

No price tag – not for sale

Price too high on the Richter scale

So –

The street is not for sale

  

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