Robert M. Simmons  

from Tracings (Poems 1964-1992)

                Burrows Street

If there was a contest

to select the last place on earth,

then surely Burrows Street would be a top contender.

Off a busy thoroughfare,

it was easy to miss.

Even people who lived in the neighborhood

for years

did not know the name

of this forsaken way.

The first right before a bridge,

it ran north to south

about four hundred yards

on a ridge of land

overlooking the path

of the former New Haven Railroad,

now Amtrak.

There were houses

on one side of the street only,

perhaps a dozen of them

none in good repair.

A dilapidated chain link fence

ran the length of the other side

at the top

of a weed and litter covered embankment.

Potholes of course

marked its route

and a highway overpass

sealed its dead end

along with an ancient electric substation

an abandoned automobile

two supermarket shopping carts

and a beach of broken glass

which sparkled in the sunlight.

Not much had changed on Burrows Street

since my last visit

forty years ago

when profound emotions were awakened

on this unlikely site

in one of those ramshackle houses

with my sixth grade classmates

during a game of spin-the-bottle

at Joan Marino's birthday party.

If love and lust and passion

can be born on Burrows Street,

then nothing is impossible.

                          © 2003 by Robert M. Simmons

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Subjects: poems about, coming of age, Providence RI, poetry, poems

Burrows Street