I'm Walt. And I'm Marie Elena.
This is the collaboration of two kindred spirits; partners in rhyme;
"the best friends we've never met."
All "Across the Lake. Eerily."

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Once tree lined,
until Dutch Elm Disease
took her toll. A quiet knoll
that came to life when the kids came out to play.

We'd play all day,
along this out of the way
thoroughfare, it was there that
we came to life; brothers, sisters and I.

A double lot 
was our footprint, no postage stamp
of God's little acre; the Maker gave us
all that we could handle and all we wanted.

The generational home,
where we were born, where Mom was raised,
where my newly naturalized grandfather settled
to raise his growing brood. He also grew food

on the lot he purchased 
along the rail lines. That was the place
that piqued my interest in trains. On time,
always to the schedule the iron rumbled.

Cousins always near,
the only fear we embraced,
came from the characters we devised.
The knights of Wood Place spent our nights

sleeping in the backyard,
roaming the 'hood after dark,
never in a malicious manner, more
of a watchful and protective way.

From the end
of our driveway to the second
telephone pole was our domain, street football
on a neatly painted asphalt gridiron; the envy

of the kids in the neighboring
streets. We were emulated; never duplicated,
celebrated for our camaraderie and brotherhood, 
in our neighborhood on Wood Place.

Dad held fort
until the end and after we and our friends
had found our own stations; our own Wood Places.
I remember the faces in my dreams.

Now Wood Place is a memory.
You can't go back again. It isn't
the same; wasn't meant to be. It was
a starting point, that mint green castle. No hassle

came without backup.
I do not venture near there.
I wish for my memories to be unburdened
by the sadness of her rapid decline, a sign that

we left Wood Place
at the exact right time. In my heart and mind
I run the streets at night, kicking cans and keeping
my hiding spots secret. All in sanctuary, on Wood Place.



  1. Bringing childhood years to life, right here ... right now. EXCELLENT work.


  2. Thanks Partner! Those do seem to seek their own levels of emotion.

  3. This near 'bout made me cry. It's a poem after my own heart, about the joys of childhood, the sameness, imagination, family...

    And then you caught me off gaurd.

    This childhood was a starting point so that all of us could go find 'our own Wood Places.' And we left it at exactly the right time.

    I had never thought of it that way before.

    Thank you for the lesson in life.

  4. It's been hard letting go of that place, and I still visit it often in my mind and dreams. But I refuse to drive that street again for fear it would invalidate my existence.