by Carla Joy Martin
Driving around Haggin Oaks, Wide boulevards with clearly painted lanes Control smoothly flowing traffic Of SUVs and BMWs with custom vanity plates, Past palatial homes with white columned porticos, Manicured lawns, sculpted trees, Flower beds and five car garages, Quiet parks. Living seems good For those who have risen above the deplorables. Traffic obeys the stop signs. Cars signal before turning. Seldom are sirens heard Of police cars chasing criminals. Yet sometimes there is the wail of ambulances For pain and death still make social calls Behind the lovely facades. The roads are smooth and commodious As substantial bank accounts, Voluminous investments. Monumental mortgages. Life seems ordered and privileged-- Like these streets. Driving around downtown, Asphalt is pitted and pot-holed. Traffic moves in jerks and bursts Like angry rats trapped in a maze Of poverty they can't escape. Pick ups and gardening trucks With peeling paint jobs and Expired tags on license plates Cough and roar through stop signs. Why obey authority When the system is rigged? Black clothed riders on bicycles Careen in and out of traffic Like crazed grim reapers Illuminated by headlights at the last moment. Police car and ambulance sirens Add their unholy howl to the enraged river of noise. Billboards advertising bail bonds and malt liquor Loom above tired, worn-out homes With old appliances lurking in the yards. Homeless push their shopping carts Holding all their worldly possessions Bound up in bulging black plastic bags. They collapse on corners, Hoping for charity. Skeletal dogs whine and feral cats screech. The streets are explosive and needy-- Can't make it to pay day, Minimum wage, Evicted. Life is cruel, hard and unjust-- Like these streets.
Carla Joy Martin is a poet, pastel artist and piano instructor. After living in New York, Scotland and Pasadena, she has now resided in Bakersfield for thirty-five years. Carla enjoys promoting the arts in Bakersfield. She hosts the Dukes Memorial Concerts as well as co-hosts the First Friday Open Mic Nights with Portia Choi.
Annis says
Wow! Your poem nailed the disparity we see every day, Carla. So many vivid images, but these lines particularly struck me:
” Police car and ambulance sirens
Add their unholy howl to the enraged river of noise.”
Thank you, xoA