About this Poem
I wrote the first version of this poem when I was 17 or 18 and, even though I rewrote several years later, it is still awkward. In many ways, it is, and was, more symbolic than literal. Because even though it is about the city of Detroit, out of all the cities I have lived in, I probably knew Detroit the least.
It is true that I was born there but it is also true that we moved to the suburbs when I was still quite young and then to Indiana when I was 13. Meaning that, aside from the occasional event or shopping trip, I spent most of my childhood in the suburbs. Things were not, of course, all good winds. As I think is evident between the lines of the poem.
When I was old enough to drive, I went back and forth between Indiana and Michigan almost every weekend. I spent most of my time there in closer proximity to the city. A few years later, after the birth of my son, I moved to the Northeast Appalachian Mountains near to where my maternal grandparents lived. And stayed there.
I never went back to Detroit. And I never went back to Indiana either.
A Short Dream
Childhood was such a short dream.
Michigan, all good wind and apples
giving way early to Detroit,
The hard city nights chain linked
and dangerous.
Childhood was a dozen ponds,
soft with algae, reed encircled,
one big Rousseau - with no explanations.
We trouped through the wind-breaker days,
the almost time for dinner evenings.
That's all.
Later there were barbecues
and cousins coming.
Sweet purple and white nights
of wet grass, wide lawns, air and space.
We spun beneath all the pale moons until
we fell drunk upon wet earth,
toadstools, violet skies and Venus.
The Church stood in its own
pale bright light.
Pastel coasts, dark communions
and a light which said
Eternal Life
But all that I've seen passes.
Through yellow lit tunnels,
dark houses huddling behind
the street lights.
A clear cold world of dark cars
and black glass,
A galaxy of light like China Town
at New Year's.
And in the end it was Detroit
that somehow captured me.
In spite of, because of
the rummage sale sidewalks
rain on the windows.
In the end
It was Detroit.
Empty shops, empty streets
and too much light
in too much darkness.
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