Will It Ever Be.... Was It Ever.... Are You? Not Anymore.
Every street had a story.
Every building a memory.
Every streetlight, curb and corner
had their moments, as well.
It's just not the same anymore.
They say that you can't go home again,
and they're right, for the most part.
What you want, when you try, is that
YOU go home again, as you were, then...
but you can't, because you're you, now.
Even though it's the same place,
and all the streets and buildings are
right, somehow, over time,
they have all changed.
They aren't the same any more -
The sky is different, somehow -
it isn't the same in color, in clarity,
as it was then.... as it was in memory.
The grass is not the same, the trees
have changed, and the air smells different now.
Stores, shops, gas stations, even the old theater,
have all changed, been torn down, burned down,
changed hands and names and signs...
And everyone you used to know that worked there,
anywhere, are all gone now, as well.
It used to be that the phrase,
"The only things that are not up for change
are funeral homes and old, big stone churches"
was how it was. Bit even that is no longer holding true,
because they always need new parking lots.
Eminent Domain can tear down old churches,
rape entire neighborhoods,
and local laws can change the way things used to be
into the way things are no longer....
So, get used to the way things are now.
No, I know you don't like that idea,
and neither do I, or most folks.
Except the new folks, the ones who weren't around
back then, when things were perfect
and didn't need to be changed.
Each new generation, be it locals who had kids,
or new folks moving in,
has their ideas of how their community should be.
They have the time and the inclination
to go to meetings and vote on changes.
If enough of them vote,
there will be changes made, and suffered.
The old swimming hole, the rock quarry,
has been filled in and the rope swing removed,
and there is a green area, a park, there now.
The old theater with the carbon arc projectors
and the film canisters - that's gone now, too.
Today they have new and improved ways to show movies,
and they can afford this now due to the way they charge
for popcorn and soda and candy.
The drive-in has been plowed under
and a big set of apartments is there now,
the town streets are no longer tree lined,
and the old cobblestone or brick streets
are now paved over with many inches of blacktop.
Progress? Progress is a fickle bitch,
and she hates everyone who has memories
of how it used to be, how it used to look,
how it used to feel.
Holidays suck now - no more street decorations,
no more smiling faces on the sidewalks...
No more curb parking downtown by the stores.
Parking ramps are the thing now.
And there are more lawyers and banks,
and empty storefronts, than people to shop and smiler
like they did back in the old days.
Today everyone is in a hurry. The Friday rush hour
is really something to see;
The frantic and frightened drivers hurrying to get home
because the weekend starts now and they have to have "fun."
And by Sunday afternoon they will start to suffer without the fun.
They will have nothing more to look forward to,
except the morning alarm clock and a bolted breakfast
and a drive to work and looking for a parking spot.
And by the time you are back at work,
you are already planning the next weekend, of fun.
You do this every day, all the time,
but you hope that your stress level isn't enough
to give you an ulcer. Let alone a heart attack.
Because if that happened you wouldn't be able to
enjoy the next weekend when you are going to have fun.
You think you are going to have fun, and
you think you are going to enjoy the next weekend,
and you think you have everything planned right this time.
But you don't, and you never will.
You just keep on keeping on with your plans and hopes.
Every day, 5 or more days a week, 52 weeks a year,
you suffer at the mercy of your own mind and your memories
of what never was, what will never be.
You have to do this, because you have to have a reason
for all the time you have spent at work, hating yourself.
And your boss is in the same boat. Maybe a bit fancier boat,
but still he's in the same situation.
He wants fun, too.... and sometimes he has it,
but most times he fools himself, just like you do.
Eventually we all die, and we haven't had fun yet.
If we are okay with that, then that is, perhaps, our heaven.
If we are upset by that, then that is certainly our hell.
Life is close to over, and you have to decide -
was it fun? Was it worth it? Were you happy?
Will it ever be.... was it ever.... are you
Comments on this poem/writing:
Click here to read other Poems by Shiloh
Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved. No part of this website, including all pictures and written words, may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without permission of the original author of the work. All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner. All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: email@example.com so the proper person may be notified.