Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Washington Park

Sunlight drenches the park
As heavily this morning
As the rain did two nights ago
Union City sprawled along one side
Jersey City on the other
And me,
Parked in the middle
Wondering to which side
I belong

The park is different
From the one I first came
To know
Green exotic art
Shielding people from sunlight
Along one edge
A cork screw called art
Pointing the way
Deeper into the city on the other,
Each making a statement on life
A vision of art
And how we should
Embrace those things
In a place where art seems
Out of touch

These pieces decorate
The edges of a bleak existence
Art upon which some artists thrive
While kids in nearby houses starve
And sometimes
So do the artists.

Why do such things,
Erect such icons
In the midst of such misery?
Why pursue dreams
That feed the soul
But not our bodies,
Our lives caught between
Union City on this side
And Jersey City on that,
With only this thin
White line in the middle
And artistic visions
Marking the boundaries
Of our lives
As if to step beyond either
Out from under the green shade
Or the silver cork screw
Means we might
Cease to exist?

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