Ashland Avenue South of the Viaduct

This is Norman Rockwell’s drug fueled nightmare of America
A country smashed in the face by racism and hatred and anger
This bleak landscape allows no mercy and no opportunity and no love

Dirty broken windows that don’t let in the light but can’t keep out the brutal cold
Wood so rotten it droops like the dreams of the men and women it intends to protect
The quiet streams up swirling across the deserted lots and abandoned buildings

Hope pushes its way through the cracks of the jagged sidewalk
Only to be stepped on by heavy ugly boots filled with loathing
The boots and the loathing move west with a slow steady shuffle

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