Passaggieta Poem by Morgan Michaels

Passaggieta

Rating: 5.0


The great evening passaggieta was upon us.
Crowds of pedestrians thronged the esplanade,
many pushing baby strollers of the indestructible late type.
The sky was filled with pink and gold clouds.
We talked softly, reminiscing. There was alot to reminisce.
'The Past is different, ' I continued. 'It has color. Meaning. Why? '
We were sitting on a park bench after the bake of the day
talking and watching the sunset and watching the river go by;
watching blunt-nosed tugs trail wakes of gold upstream All very Glackens.
'You were young, ' she explained, with a sigh. 'That's why. Everything is better when you're young. The essence of romance, unfortunately,
is wanting what you can't have. And romance is a great colorist.
You know what GBS said-'
'It's wasted on the young. Yes, I know. But if you can't take it for granted, it isn't youth. So, no, it can't be just that. Life was better, then. Absolutely. The city was better, then. It wasn't filled up with....'
'Never mind, ' she said, quickly, reading my mind and fearing the worst.
...baby strollers, ' I finished, a little spitefully, hoping it would make the point.
'You can't blame people for being people, ' she laughed, ruefully.
'But we created it. Everything. And what do we get? Prices! Over-crowding!
Gaucherie! And bourgeois thinking.
'Gaucherie? Why, I'm not even sure what that is, ' she said, bravely.
But I knew she did.
'People rush in whereever life is good. Especially if it's safe.
Everyone wants environment, even if few are good at creating it.'
'But nobody knows. Nobody cares. There's so much stupidity.
Abandoned to the pleasures of the moment, everyone forgets the Makers.'
'What you think is stupid doesn't seem stupid to them, she said,
her eyes following a steely stroller with double wheels and legholes for twins, that at the crank of a lever or the press of a button
might well convert digitally to a mountain bike.
'And vice versa. What do you want, anyway? '
I thought a bit, then said, slowly:
'A commemorative stamp.'
'Oh, ok, ' she laughed, 'I'll call my congresswoman tomorrow.'
'I hope you have a speaker phone, ' I advised.
'I do, ' she chuckled. 'Honest.'
'I believe you, ' I said.
And I did.

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