Boulevard of Agony
Michelle Greenblatt
It appears as it’s appeared before. The scarred
ghettos, the pocked streets; I am walking
into the caves of the trashed projects, straight
into the hearts of the crack addicts
on the street corners, their money floating
above the sidewalks, bodies robbed, empty heart
chambers echoing. The streets flower
with pain.
If I walk down a boulevard of agony,
if I talk cautious steps upwind,
I will still be sniffed
out, my blonde hair,