In the center of the city
The frenetic finds a rhythm—
A hum—
Brick moldings, black shutters,
Leafy green tree tops, boutique street shops,
Audis and awnings,
Testify
Justice for the oppressed
And the tone is class deaf
For though Newbury and MLK
Might seem like east and west
Both pulse with the overture
Led with such blurry aplomb from the pit
That the conductor appears still
Covered with the dust of children.
Though we all forget how it goes
We are grateful that
Someone around this place
Plays by ear
© 2007 Elliot Stockstad. This poem may not be reprinted without permission from the author.
Elliot Stockstad
a counselor, harmonica dabbler, and new dad living in the City of Destiny where he walks his dog, Murph, scribbles down observations, puffs the occasional pipe, and remains haunted by waters
