Another Occupation Poem

[lydy]

Places

Imagine a place.
Not a beloved place,
Not a home, or a park,
Just an intersection.
A place where there were roses
Twenty years ago,
Or a restaurant that closed
And was never very good,
A place you passed by twice a day
For years, in a bus,
or in a car,
or on a bike,
or walked by,
A place as well known
and as little considered
as the back of your knee.

Imagine that they murdered someone there
in the place where there are no roses
or the place where the food was not good
or the cross walk had a lot of ice that one winter
the place you have never considered
never loved, merely
passed through.

What do you think happens next?
What do you imagine that you would do.

You should think about it.
They’re coming for your places, next,
to rewrite the commonplaces of your life
in gas and tears and bullets and blood.

We decide what happens next. Elbows up.