Oh, flashing street lights, breakfast alarms
Sidewalks, streams, and dirty ponds,
Parked cars, wrecked mailboxes, and rain;
What nostalgic paradise have you all escaped to?
The neighborhood remembers these things, the
Jogging neighbors and babies crying, the
Driveway basketball games, and yoga, the
Yard work, clean grass
Days before the neighborhood
Three generations of families past over
The train tracks, to somewhere else.
The yellow school-buses no longer turn
Into our little community
They’ve forgotten us, or
We’ve all grown up,
But someone woke up the neighborhood,
All the Halloween decorations have disappeared,
Into the basement.
The house lights are shut through day and night
The trick-or-treaters from other neighborhoods
Have forgotten our humble street.
The cars that travel through us
Are always wandering, lost, but never
Ask for directions,
And we never see them leave.
The homes lining the road are trapped in that
Twilight zone between
Hopeless irrelevancy and haunted-house status.
The streams have run dry,
The rain fills them not when it
Drizzles or storms,
I like to think all the neighbors whisked away
One night, to another distant pastoral,
Leaving us behind without a word,
But I know they’ve all just woken up,
And moved on.