Detroit redux

Been gone so long can’t believe its been twenty years,
Stayed right across the street from my dad’s office,
The last one he was to occupy in Detroit,
Before packing up and moving upstate.
The building being renovated, windows missing,
Covered with plastic, nothing but a shell,
Looks like nothing that I remembered,
Even the street below is different as well.
We took the kids to see the new ballpark,
The field stands twenty-five feet below street level,
Sculptures and bats adorn the fenced façade,
Where once stood blocks upon blocks of buildings,
Some vacant, some used but only slightly,
And one of these was the old YWCA.
Mom took us there one winter day,
Snuck away while dad was at work,
Sick of being smacked around, being yelled at,
Tired of his domineering drunken ways,
Packed our bags and slipped away into Detroit.
The seventh floor belonged to us,
Battered woman and their battered children,
Only accessible with a key, a safe house,
Away from our broken homes and broken dreams.
Dirty walls and floors, smelling of sweat and tears,
Crawling with cockroaches and rats,
But for many this was now their home,
Away from punching fists and prying eyes,
Leather belts across your face or your backside,
Usually hidden, leaving no trace for wondering eyes.
I looked out from the seventh floor, from the activity room,
Onto barren roof tops and an empty street,
Boarded up buildings, two once-grand theatres,
Nothing more, felt the cold chill of endless doubt.
Shipped off to the city schools, discovered a new kind of abuse,
Battle-scarred neighborhood, not far from downtown,
Drug gangs recruiting twelve-year-old runners,
Selling crack in their track suits, so they confined us to the school,
No lunch, no gym, no nothing for the city rats,
Most of the kids just killing time until they turned sixteen,
So many of them were close, still only in the eighth grade.
I stared out at the street below every night back at the shelter,
Kids playing ping-pong in the background,
Wondering about long-ago glory days, for me and the city,
Stared across the street at the Fox and State theatres,
Shuttered doors, broken lights, empty cavernous shells.
Now everything has changed, the theatres re-opened,
The vacant rotting buildings razed, even the church on the corner,
It was the only thing open on that street for many years,
A beacon of hope in the wilderness, surrounded by doubt,
The streets belonged to the homeless and helpless,
Still many around, but not like it was before.
Two new stadiums—named after companies that own the city,
Made it what it was in some ways, but two new stadiums,
Open park areas, two new/old venues for music and shows,
Even an opera house and so much more,
Three casinos in the downtown area,
But where have all the homeless ones gone?
Pushed into the outlying areas, beyond the new town homes,
Maybe past the cultural center, past the university,
Down on the corridor, vacant buildings still line the street.
I saw a couple sleeping on the grates,
Warmed by the steam from the buildings,
Saw a couple begging outside the casino,
Then going inside to gamble it away,
Or going into the party store for smokes.
Time has not stood still, so much has happened,
An All-Star game, a Super Bowl, the World Series, and the Stanley Cup,
Have all visited in recent years, fueling revitalization,
Changing my city, changing their image,
Changing the physical but not changing my memories,
Of a city in decay, falling apart from the inside,
So much more to do, but change it will,
Nothing ever stays the same.
It always comes back to the personal,
How have I changed, what is new with me,
How am I different from those days,
Staring out onto the street from the seventh floor?
That will require some more thought,
I’ll mull that one over for a couple days more,
Need to consider what I’ve done,
Where I’ve been for me to answer that one,
But we’ll see, we shall see . . .