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?



email to Al Sullivan

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