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At one time my neighborhood was new mass-produced little boxes made of ticky-tacky – all looking just the same* Beautiful affordable, true suburban models, in mid-twentieth century they were truly quite the rage. But now the then-proud new homeowners have mostly moved to better places While new ones gladly renovate these aging homes with new rooms and outer faces When I walk down the street it’s easy to see many of these homes looked exactly like mine at one time, before they were distressed and foreclosed It was a model community that boasted of its clean uniformity, sterility, and safety from those unqualified outside, distressed and forebode Now it’s a bit grittier yet in my mind much prettier than a planned little row of little boxes where the kids all turn out the same. It’s a mix of even and odd ones, making for a mix where none is truly plain. Now the trees have grown so high, and despite the leaves and branches dropped I’m thankful for the breezes I imagine there are dozens of Spots, Fluffies, and Socks in haphazard plots beneath them Where beloved pets rest embraced by roots that still grow along with branches that are strong and large, and now holding swings for another generation of kids and grandkids. The yards are no longer so clean and shining green, but I focus on a long-gone vine That left an imprint as it at one time crept up the wall outside my door, and so artful its design I want to keep it there forevermore. I pass added studios for boarders, made from added rooms from added carports, Basketball hoops at the street side, foot bridges over ditches for bikes, and newly added porches. With new rooms, rooves, paint, and landscape Nothing here a mere misuse of ticky-tacky tape. Even those homes that still look the same outside for their original floor plan If you go inside each you’ll see windows and walls removed and added While the footprints are still here, new shoes have stepped in place All from boots to bare feet to these homes have found their way. So as I walk down the street, At least I have a little hope right now For despite how bleak the times may be, At last I can believe everyone is allowed in Levittown – for now. *Apologies to Malvina Reynolds, Little Boxes (1962)
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