When I was living in Dallas I did a series of poems called "The streets of Dallas." The following is one:
Hatcher Street
Old black men sit in empty chairs
Deep brown eyes watching
Johnsongrass
Bleeding from sidewalk wounds
And used car lots sprouting like
Broken promises,
Littered
With shattered glass and faded memories.
Behind boarded windows
In crack house rooms
Death breaths in
Through toothless grins
While streetwise youth
Play deadly games
Near lonely graveyards
Full of brown eyes
That no longer see
The dust that blows
Down Hatcher Street.



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