Monday, March 10, 2014

Richard Schnap- A Poem


There was the one with black walls
Scrawled with the names of bands
Like those on graves in a cemetery

Now it’s an overpriced restaurant
Its meals supposedly prepared
From genuine Italian recipes

And the one with wooden balconies
Where any band could play there
If they paid for the privilege to do so

Now it’s a foreign car dealership
Its showroom displaying Ferraris
And Porsches that no one can afford

And the one owned by a mobster
With genuine old Blues artists
Brought in from the slums of Chicago

Now it’s a faceless tavern
Catering to local college students
Attracted by its selection of imports

And when I walk by them I see
A stranger reflected in their windows
Decked out in leather and jeans

Staring at me for a moment
Before vanishing like a ghost
Back to the past where he’s buried

No comments:

Post a Comment