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Where the sidewalk meets the road
Past the fire hydrants and the post boxes,
The parking meters and the shuttered shops,
The shelter of the blue-marked bus stops;
The half-lit dry cleaners, the crowded grocery stores,
The gambling shops with their lurid frontage,
Promise of winnings to perennial losers.
These fixtures with their mixed messages
The allure of easy money with hidden caveats
Bulging pockets parting with notes.
There are no streets anymore;
Only roads, a sea of vehicles choked with traffic
This familiar scene repeated ad infinitum
Across big cities and small towns.
Street names that contradict and jar
Avenues with bare, denuded trees,
Cul-de-sacs with exits curving into entrances
Views without scenic splendour;
Walks with broken, splintered pavements
Groves without orchards or hollies,
Mews without stables
The Close an unchecked haven of noise.
Something has been lost and sacrificed
Perhaps a sense of proportion,
A clarity of vision, a natural earthly accord
The myth of suburbia has died.
The village green has been paved over
Even as the water puddles recoil with horror. |
