Flight to the white picket fences, cookiecutter castles,
white walls at Henry J. Schaff Middle school.
Mrs. Johnson sips mint julep on summer days.
East 55th smells like burnt popcorn ,
blue-black collars walk down Bolivar.
Now and Laters, a forty, two loosies on a work day.
Sudden eviction notices: four days to find a double.
Coffee shops, record stores, Vegan-vegetarian-organic-superfood,
A mine filled with fool’s gold.
No money said the rich man, enough money said the poor man.
Bicycles unchained at the corner store, closing soon.
Rust flakes from the workman’s desk
He takes his broom and sweeps them away.
Editor’s note: This story is part of our September 2016 series ‘Hundreds of Words about Location: Where are you, and how does it affect how you see the world?’
Jacob Gedetsis wants to live in a world where coffee is free, poetry is more popular than Kim Kardashian and taco trucks set up on every corner. A Cleveland native, he is currently a junior studying English and journalism at Syracuse University. You can follow him on Twitter @JacobGedetsis.