Dumont--Brooklyn

718.486.7717

I remember 2001
Stumbling, bumbling in search of fun
The Southside boring and 6th far from there
We happened ‘pon this eastern fair
The food was good, the service great
Though neither really persuaded fate
The outside garden was the catch
A sunny desperate mismatch
Chairs for grandma’s back yard porch
wobbly, faunae, the sun would torch.
Cracks in concrete, and wine from tumblers
Made perfect sense to us bumblers
It matter little at the time
We laughed, made merry, drank cheap wine
The place, like us, so fancy free
At the height of Billy’s B
But now sequestered to the heated bar
Made of pressure treated wood and tar
Strangers scurry to and fro
Clad in black they serve the status quo
What happened is our own damned fault
Our neighborhood grew out of its alt
And though the grub is still the same
The homey charm does not remain
My lament, to be fair, is not from reason
Like crying over the loss of a season
The masses happy at what’s become
A tree house, micros, and all the fun
And this tiny garden is just a mirror
For all the hood I held so dear
I remember also the designed protest.
Yet glass filled towers spring; no rest
The loss is not of the memory
Instead the sale of integrity.