my 8000th unfinished poem about Roger's Park

-for Lorelei-

there's a fork in the road
at Touhy and Ridge
going East in Roger's Park
one way goes South, the other North
I haven't taken that one in years
since about the time the Latin Kings
were at war with the Gangster Disciples
of course the decision had less to do with that than the fact
that I was a sullen boy of 13
with little use for the playground at Pottawatamee Park

the neighborhood doesn't change a whole lot
there's a mall nearby and a couple townhouses
but the ground is still covered with shit
broken
spaceheaters, a toddler's bed
smshed to the ground
an afrikan drum
there's a community center acting as a store on ridge
it's full of filipinos and mexicans playing whatever card game
i'm too old and focused to understand

for years now i've seen roadside memorial
from the corner of my eye
today i finally took the time to cross it
full of baby shoes and old chairs
bodega votives eternally lit

I never knew who it was for
same thing with the piece of paper discarded
across the street from
Mr. Lee's
it had some cat's name
gang affiliation and phone number
like you'd get at a single's bar near a base in Norfolk
or a war crimes tribunal
in that bittersweet way that dictates the way i see my neighborhood
it was beautiful