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Poem

I remember he says
When I was young
That store on the corner
Was run by an old Jewish couple

I remember the numbers
They had on their arms
And was always curious
Why they did that to themselves
I was so young and naive

And here, he went on,
In the middle of the block
Was a German delicatessen
They had the very best potato salad
I remember them all

On the next block was the bakery
You could smell the bread
Being baked every morning
Not like it is now
I can’t smell nothin’ now

I loved to play stick ball
With the kids on the block
I can still all their faces
And remember all their names

I have seen the life pass away
From this neighborhood
All these streets have changed
I miss those days a lot he said

As a tear rolled down his cheek
He spoke out in a low voice
This isn’t how it was suppose to be

Head bent down almost touching
The stained and crumpled sign
That lay next to an old soup can
That had a few various coins in it

While I started to walk away
I heard him talking to himself
In a hushed quiet voice
Almost impossible to hear

This isn’t how it was suppose to be
This isn’t how it was suppose to be
This isn’t how it was suppose to be

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