Too Late

I should have written this poem
two days ago when the
trees were faint chartreuse clouds, a
dogwood gleaming white
through the haze, 
wisteria high above the houses 
in the pine branches.

But I didn't and today
the leaves are
tending towards their
summer green. Hiding 

I’m so Detroit…

I'm so Detroit I lived on Atkinson, Chicago, Calvert,Oregon, 
Fairfield, North Martindale, Linwood, Glendale, Monterrey and the 
Brewster projects.
I'm so Detroit most of those houses have been torn 
down or are in ruin.
I'm so Detroit the schools my parents and I attended
are gone.
I'm so Detroit I marched for Freedom down Woodward in 1963 
and against the War in Vietnam in 1966.
I'm so Detroit I was art editor for the South End when John 
Watson became editor.
I'm so Detroit I met my husband at the Detroit Public 
I'm so Detroit I remember before the Elm trees were cut down.
I'm so Detroit we returned light bulbs to the 12th street Edison's
for free replacements.
I'm so Detroit I worked Christmas seasons at 
downtown Hudson's.
I'm so Detroit I spent the 1967 riot/rebellion at my 
grandmother's 2 blocks from 12th and Atkinson where it 
all started.
I'm so Detroit I remember living upstairs from Beans 
Bowles on Calvert.
I'm so Detroit I remember walking home for lunch, 
milk in milk shutes, fudgeikkles and 
wine candy.
Maybe I'm not "so Detroit", maybe I'm just 
"so old."