EASY STREET

On Roxbury Drive,
In Beverly Hills, there's an air of
Leafy radiance that settles in and
Lingers until the bewitching hour
When the dusk comes and trances
These special swells into some
Hypnotic splendor.

The dark arrives as usual
And everybody settles in as usual
And there is nothing unusual
In these perfumed rooms.

And then the morning arrives,
The sun rises on this street
Shining a sharp light letting
All those who live on other streets
Know they don't live on easy street.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

REMEMBERING AN OLD STREET

On Main Street,
On Martha's Vineyard, I am
Filled with bittersweet memories.
I remember Main Street...
I was there, so long ago.

I can still smell that ocean air,
So briny and salty and
All those summers come
Flooding back.

The day we ate in the diner
And how the jukebox blared all
The songs we loved.

In spite of all the quaintness
Of that lovely and charming place
I longed with desperation
To be some place else.

I suppose we are what we carry
Inside us and in spite of that
Heady beauty, whenever I was there
I longed to be somewhere else.

I suppose there are places that always
Make us want to go home.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

THESE DAYS

On the Promenade,
In Blackpool, exquisite wonder
And bright colors create an intense
Kaleidoscope of magical fun.

There's a high tower and
Amusements and prizes and
Horse drawn carriages riding next to
Modern cars.

On the pier, there's a Ferris Wheel with
Rotating gondolas perfectly suited for
Grand and glorious views
Of luminous illuminations.

Luminous illuminations
All right by the sea
By the sea, so all the children
Who come here
Will remember these days.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

PRETTY WALK

On East Guenther Street,
In San Antonio, I felt I should
Be wearing fancy ribbons in my hair
Because the houses are so pretty.

I passed by houses that are
Treasures with artistically sculptured
Facades and stunning lace screened
Verandas where guests might dine
On tea cakes spread out on crisp white
Doilies and later when the sun goes
Down, talk of small things that matter
And rinse their hands in dainty
Finger bowls to keep things fresh.

There's a place to stand to view the
Spot where the breathless
Flowing river passes through
Bringing a sense of sameness.

I got lost on this intoxicating street,
Longed to stay, and knew I could return.
There's a sense of serenity in this old
Comfort as the sunlight falls on this same
Street as it has fallen on this street forever.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

GOING THE OTHER WAY

On Larimer Street,
In Denver, I went the wrong way
Because the sun was endlessly bright
And my eyes hurt.

So, I winced and decided to turn
Around and see a different view
And go the other way.
I longed for night, so the darkness
Might blur the vision.

In sunlight, there were too many new
Things and I longed for the
Old buildings; these pieces didn't fit.

This music is too now,
And the haircuts are too today.
These silvery parked bicycles
Have taken short trips.
The billiard club fills me with despair
For times gone by so I go over
And look at all the hanging beads for
Making necklaces, as if they held a key to
Some magical thinking and wearing beads
Could bring back what once was.

I wondered if this pawn shop
Accepts memories,
And keeps them safe
Until later when the memories
Are bought back.

Nobody finds places long gone.
But, taking back memories
Makes me smile.
On this street,
It would be fitting.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

ORDINARY THINGS

On Main Street,
In Northport, there is a
Guy standing in the middle of the street
Wearing an orange helmet
And a lady, riding a bicycle on the sidewalk,
Wearing a pale straw sun hat
And two children walking home from school
Wearing book bags and carrying skateboards.

A beautiful house proudly displays the flag,
There are two churches on both sides
When you reach Church Street
And one has lovely pink flowers in front.
There's a post office, a bank,
The fire department announcing
The "Fireman's Fair"...

In front of pristine houses on a crisp clear
Day ordinary things are happening
Where extraordinary things happened.
Nothing remarkable here at all
To speak of the remarkable man that
Once lived here.

Pass through this town, keep driving
Keep going, don't look over your shoulder
Keep going until you read the end:
The water with the boats and the looming
Hill on the other side
And you know you can't turn back.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

SET IN STONE

On Pineview Street,
In Rocky Mount, there is an old cemetery:
The place where the dead go.
One grave had nice fresh pink flowers
To whisper that somebody is missed.

Not many graves, but very old stones
Broken and chipped stones set in tired dirt
Seen through windows of houses that
Line that still street.

Some houses set way back
As if to separate the living
From the dead.

And then, I saw a children's swing set,
And the sun trying to peek through
To perhaps lift a sense of deep gloom.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

THE SWANKY PLACE

On Cherry Street,
In Denver, I suppose nothing
Much has changed.

Maybe some things.
There's a liquor store on one corner
And a Mexican restaurant on the other.
With one breath,
The street is inside of me.

The beckoning street that held
The door through which he left to
Go up to the mountains, see an
Opera, and eat swell food:
The swanky place.

There is comfort in knowing
That not much changes:
In some places, time may indeed
Stand still.

The street is quiet now;
I think nobody is home.
And it does look like it will soon rain.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

SEEING ALMOST NOTHING

On Repatriation Road,
In Pickering Brook, I drove
For a long time
And saw almost nothing
Except the narrow road
Ahead and trees on both sides
With nothing behind me
And nothing ahead of me.
Then, I saw a tractor on one side
And a low gate on the other and
I knew I was reaching a place.
Some place.

Then, I saw a tiny little house
All alone there behind some flowers.
It had a front porch with old chairs
And some other muted things.
In front of the house was a tree,
Three times taller than the house!
I kept going.
I kept going
Chasing the end of that road.
Until I reached the end of the road.
Literally.
And then I went back home.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

WHAT REMAINS

On Merrimack Street,
In Lowell, there's a signpost
That says: Detour.

Maybe he never should have
Taken the other road,
Maybe he should have gone
Back, gone the other way
And stayed on these roads.

The air at the end of these
Roads becomes thick and
Dense and there is fog.

Here, on lonely low bleak cloudy days
There are quiet somber and grey
Places: big old several storied houses
With many front steps and slanted roofs
And lots of windows for eye prints.

The houses on University Avenue
From long ago are comforting with
Stubborn intoxicating attics whispering
Secrets obsessed with what
Was, so returning to this street
Reveals air like a strange pentimento.

Old stores with faded signs, corner
Places that never ever yielded or
Changed and they don't bend, they
Remain strong, proud, and solid.

If he stayed for more than a short
Time he always heard the swing
Music; drizzling so he could remember.
At night, in dreams, when
The way became lost, he
Soon realized he never left.
All that time, all those years
His eyes were just closed.
The boarded up windows gave
Him reasons to cry.

Now, this is the end of the seductive
Road, his forever destination:
A place that always surfaced
When sad dreams and deep
Longing finally fell away...
And he had to return to this place
Like a traveler who finally uses his
Return trip ticket.
Home.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

HOT WATERCOLORS

At Plaja Jupiter,
On Strada Brindisi, look at the
Wonderful things and colorful things:

Rich green and pink stuff to take home
And even more stuff to chew and eat
So the sense of wonder is remembered.

Blue water on one side of the sandy heat
And huge proud swans wait on the water
On the other side, and never move.

Later, the day perhaps will become
Fragmented but the sense of wonder
Might never become blurred.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

NOBODY HOME

Between Muirfield Road and Culduthel Road,
In Inverness, there is a street with no name.
But, you can get there.

An old stone building is quietly hidden
Surrounded by a low iron gate
In a lush green fragrant forest.
All sad sounds have fallen away
The many footprints are gone
And all that is left is the still.

The now boarded up windows
Allow no lights from inside to
Show the way home
And I think
Nobody is home
In this long ago forgotten home.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

THE LITTLE FLOWER SHOP

On Sternwartstrade,
In Munich, there is a charming little
Flower shop in a tiny little building
With a green and white
Striped awning.

It was tempting to stand and
Gaze at the technicolor flattered
Flowers.

But, I spun around to also see
Red flowers on tall stems
In front of a house covered in
Gorgeous green ivy.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

BECAUSE I COULD

On Saatwinkler Damm,
In Berlin, I stood on the far sidewalk
And watched.

With lush green trees behind me,
No traffic in front of me, only parked cars
I gazed at the canal in in the distance.

And the little white boat passed by
With a high carefree rider whose back was
To me, so he didn't see me.

I waited and watched and
Watched and watched for some time
Because I could.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

TO GET TO THIS PLACE

On Aleppo Road,
In New Freeport, there are wonderful

things, rich and wonderful things.

Old houses made of dark crumbling

Wood that remembers what was,

A dry waterless sandy creek

And an old and tired bench

Where an old grandmother sat

And turned, with bent and gnarled

Fingers, the pages of a book

While whispering magical words

That filled a child's imagination.

Keep moving past a graveyard where

Old and broken and long forgotten cars

That yesterday were shiny new cars that

Once took children to faraway colorful fairs.

And past some jumping deer going up a

Steep hill to get back to the forest to hide,

To get back to familiar safe places.

A shiny white gazebo stands alone on

The grand grass where dolls sit

Wearing fancy hats and having sweet tea.

To get to this place you will need to

Go the other way, go that other way,

Go a different way to be taken away.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

THE GHOSTS OF GAY STREET

On Gay Street,

In New York City, there are quaint

Red and white and orange houses that are

Intoxicating because they are so old and little.

There is a building with turquoise shutters and

There are pinks and red and white flowers in

Lovely window pots and green trees

To the left and to the right.

The facade is frozen, but not the living...

Or the dead.

It is said that number 12 is...

Haunted. Maybe so.

But,

It is the house across the street where I see

A ghost.

She is peeking out from the second floor window

On the left side of an orange brick building.

She has bushy eyebrows and one hair roller

Sits on the top of her head.

Her mouth is open as if she is startled and

She appears to be more frightened than the

Tourists who down below night and day

Haunt the street looking for the

Ghosts of Gay Street.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

NARROW STREET

On Villa Silla,
In Scanno, the low and narrow street
Has a quiet outdoor cafe with tables
Covered in yellow tablecloths.

One man dines alone
Next to and under purple
Red and pink flowers.
Gorgeous proud balconies are
Set into buildings with old grey
Chipped and broken stone.

A little store down the path displays
Colorful children's clocks:
Bunnies and elephants and angels
Designed to make the children laugh.

From another high window, freshly washed
Towels hang and down below mothers
Gather to talk and soon walk with their babies.

Flower pots sit on small steps,
Leading up to a home where another woman
Is standing above the street looking down
From a wide open window near a bird feed
And she too is hanging the wash out to dry.

And then nothing moves and all is frozen.
Only the wash; the wash flying in front of that
Large foreboding mountain under a crisp
And clear blue and white sky.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

THIS HEADY ELIXIR

On Clifton Hill,
In Niagara Falls, there is a soft intoxicating
Smell in the air of sweet and heady nostalgia.
Walkers cross the street to a bright lush green
Park and the water is then behind them as a
Light mist sprays their backs and the
Visuals turn into blurred memories
Set in stone.

All the excitement is about to begin.
There is a turquoise haunted house,
A beckoning moving theater,
The wax museum,
And a souvenir shop:
It's a massive swirling kaleidoscope of
Dreamlike and almost surreal color.

Then, in the center of all this heady elixir
Is a glorious and perfect SkyWheel,
Where I imagine children sit with parents
High up above it all, setting the graphics into
What will years later seem almost
Hallucinogenic.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

SCENES FROM LONG AGO

On Beard Street,
In Kernersville, there are colorful
Wall murals which give glimpses
Into what was, long ago.

I saw ladies in billowing long
Red and white dresses standing
With gentlemen wearing tall hats
All waiting at the railroad station
For family arriving from faraway places.
Soon, they would all step into a horse
Drawn carriage to take a short ride home.

Nobody looked up to see the child
Perched high above who on bleak days
After school would climb to the flat roof
To wait for the trains to pass.

The trains were carrying weary passengers
Traveling to faraway places, and they were
Also going home.

Many years later, she would remember
The sound of the whistle as the trains
Passed and she would speak of the sound
As both sad and mournful,
Perhaps because it always
Strangely reminded
Her of all times past.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine

for Frances Slade

BY THE SEA

On Coast Road,
in Larne, two people stand
Between the purple rocky cliffs and the
Pale colorless sea on the other side of
Yellow and purple flowers.

Cars pass by with drivers and passengers
Whose faces I will never see.
There is an open gate with a path that
Leads to an unseen place.

And soon, there is a sign that says,
"Boats," and then the sky turns magically blue.
But, in the distance the clouds are so low that
They touch the water.

© 2010 Marjorie Levine