the avenue

Empty avenue stretches toward downtown,
Dimly lit blacktop four lanes wide,
Echoes of a storied past,
Rumors of a hopeful future,
Scant cars slide stealthily by.
Used furniture store to one side,
Beauty salon and shops on the other,
Prostitutes stroll down the sidewalk,
Looking every which way for their next trick,
No one has a good reason for being here tonight.
An awning stretches out across the walk,
Built in better days long since gone,
Offers a short respite for the homeless,
Trekking on foot or by bike,
From the shelter to the southside.
The avenue disappears to the north,
Swallowed up by the city center,
Multi-storied drab monuments of gloom,
Used and forgotten like so many lovers,
Bricks fading like dreams long forgotten.
Hovels and crackhouses hide off to the east,
Sandwiched between the river and the highway,
Street lights broken and dimmed,
By too many years of hard living,
Too many promises made but never delivered.
A Harley splits the silence for a moment,
Revving and roaring away from the clubhouse,
The noise fades away and is replaced,
By the sounds of industry across the river,
Of the GM plant making cars for other folks.
My dreams or my reality, which is worse,
Running and running all the time, all the while,
But at the same time, standing dead still,
In the same place I’ve always been,
Realizing that there is no place to go.
So what lies do I tell myself,
To make it all seem so worthwhile,
To silence my doubts, hide the truth,
Looking and longing but never going,
Standing still in the middle of the avenue.
Momentary pleasures taken and given,
Countless ounces and bottles,
And concrete flying past my seven-plys,
A long, slow caress to wake me up,
Living half-awake in the half-light.