Because we all want to write more poems.
East Coast Visit
Riding the train from Washington, D.C.
to New York City, childhood memories
rise from the spring woods. No leaves
hide the bright green skunk cabbage
emerging from bedraggled winter leftovers.
Memory rustles boyish searches for
frontier adventures in Connecticut woods.
East coast houses rush by interspersed
with nascent green fields. Soon, the city’s
factories, warehouses, brackish creeks,
rows and rows of junked cars, freight
trains parked in long useless lines,
wait their turn for one more long haul,
run down tenements bereft of possibility.
Manhattan’s sky line in the distance.
- Clayton Medeiros's Shared Poems
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