there are no alleys on geranium ridge

and when the clouds permit

the sun throws everything

at the ideal

even buena vista

a street as well as an aura

passing through our barely

post-adolescent lifelines

the sweat of our palms

impossible as it may seem

you told me once

it was a long walk home

like passing through the valley

of crying children

though you loved children

and you left before

the valleys were left in rust

'neath a stack of lost church pews

& scattered red bricks

from woods run

you went back east

before going out west again

and i can't say

i blame ya

but before all that

why'd you hook up

in a lost fleeting moment

with a guy singing

(off-key)

& phony

right outta the military-industrial 

draft board songbook

geranium street emptied over the years

but i think the city steps might still be there

up to the buena vista cobblestones

watch out for the drop-off

before the flowers bloom

test the earth before you step

but don't run away

with your hands in your pockets

--- e b bortz