discards and cast-offs

Rolled up to the ghetto gas station,
Two inches of bullet-proof Plexiglas,
Separates the clerk from folks like me.
Single cigarettes and cigarillos fly out,
Almost as quickly as 40’s and bags of chips,
Little Debbie’s, zig-zags and malt liquor.
Haven’t seen any working girls there recently,
Think they relocated to the other side of town,
But the drunks still panhandle outside the store.
I load up on coffee, Mt. Dew and gum,
A couple of ginseng energy pills to get me through,
And I stumble back out to my rusty VW.
On the grass behind the store I spy two trucks,
Sticking up skyward like a pair of insect legs,
Flipped onto its back unable to turn itself rightside up.
Who left their skateboard just lying around,
Left on the ground to rot or be stolen by whoever?
I walk over to the board to check it out,
Not the greatest of neighborhoods, not anymore,
River Drive—another has-been neighborhood.
Large two-story homes line the street,
But now they’ve been divvied up and dissected,
Into so many separate apartments by neglectful landlords.
The board is smashed in the front and back,
Spiderman design is still visible but faded,
I figure its a Toys-R-Us special, cheap trucks and all.
The wheels barely spin as I inspect the remains,
There was a time when I would have still taken it,
I remember pillaging trash dumpsters with my buds.
In one of those I found an old beat-up Nash,
Many years removed from its prime but I rode it away,
A replacement for my plastic banana board that was long gone.
I couldn’t afford anything else so I skated on that thing,
Until I bought a Powell-Peralta several years later,
With money I saved up from working at McDonalds.
In the back window of my VW I made a shrine,
My fish board and my son’s popsicle stick,
Stand at the ready, flanked by our helmets.
If and when the car dies, I’ll just hop on and go,
Push myself to the nearest bus stop or keep pushing,
The seven or so miles back to my house.
Not sure why I just don’t ride right now,
Even if just to take the bus for most of the route,
Nothing wrong with a little exercise.
The sidewalk look welcoming as I drive along,
Two blocks down and back to work,
I should have just skated there and back.
When you’re young and poor you just make do,
Work with what you got or what you find,
Older and not at all wiser, we waste and spend.
I choose the easier route and drive my car,
Even though it spits oil all over the place,
Driveway looks like the beach after the Valdez hit.
Half-expecting to have to clean off the cat,
And all the neighborhood bluejays and cardinals,
Save them from an oily death thanks to me.
So easy not to think not to consider the impact,
To just go along and not take responsibility,
Taking the route that everyone else does.
I wonder how much it would cost to mail,
A board half-way across the world to Thailand,
To my cousin’s children who have never been spoiled?
Never had the opportunity to overspend and abuse,
Take this life and land for granted,
Earned far less than what their labor is worth?
The developing world is far from ideal,
Corners are cut and laws evaded,
But what if I plant a seed right now?
What will grow and develop over time?
Broken board and busted trucks,
Can be replaced but not life—mine, theirs, ours.
This planet that I use and abuse,
Bangkok streets flooded with cars and taxis,
City sewers full of sludge emptied into the rivers.
This is a small thing I’m talking about,
Used discarded trucks and wheels,
Decks that have seen better days.
My trash and toss offs could be someone else’s treasure,
Used Etnies and Vans, Levis and cargo pants,
These could open the door and pave the way.
Jonno tells me about the Asian X Games,
Talks about the huge park in Kuala Lumpur,
Millions of third world kids looking for something new.
Brazilians have shown that they can shred,
Just as well as their North American cousins,
So why not Thais and Nigerians as well?
Sports have brought the world closer together,
A shared interest a shared love,
Skateboarding can be that bridge also.
Maybe moreso than any other sport,
Non-competitive in nature—about pushing one’s own self,
About exploring and exploding the boundaries.
Early morning trip to the ghetto gas station,
Got me thinking and scheming in a new direction,
Not at all what I had expected at the start.
Our culture and our products sell around the world,
Marlboro, Budweiser, Levis and mass production,
So why not help push, kick skateboarding to them as well?
Not from a corporate perspective but grassroots,
Get the youth involved and let it grow,
Give them a taste of what real freedom is about.
Remind myself what freedom is all about,
Stop taking this life this planet for granted,
Stop living day-to-day looking for another fix.
How can they hate us once they realize,
That they are us and we are they,
That to hate us is to hate themselves.
That we are all in this together,
To fix what we can we must work as one,
To carry on and carry forward pushing and kicking.