October 26, 2010
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On a cracked cement sidewalk,
I strut down the black and white streets
of St. Paul.

I pass Divas, a once eye-catching bar
in this town’s better days;
now not a customer in sight.

Across the street is an unkept field,
where the grass is dead,
and the goal post is chipping.

At dusk, Tin Cup’s lights shine,
but, broken bulbs cause a misunderstanding.

Summer after summer
we come here
to this rusty, crusty town!
What’s the draw?

Once again I am walking
in my father’s childhood footsteps
and Grandpa’s raspy voice welcomes me in.

I sit down to see
on his stained kitchen table top;
a pile of pictures.

He points to a photo I have often seen before,
St. Bernard’s Varsity football team.
“Every ounce of sweat and blood we had,
was in the games across the street.”

“And this?”
“Our blind date at Tin Cups,
love at first sight and Mary’s favorite.”

Summer after summer,
we come here
to this rusty, crusty town.
Why didn’t I see the draw before?

I hadn’t opened my eyes
to see the foot prints in the park,
or Grandma’s favorite photo.
I hadn’t opened my eyes
to see this town in color.

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