The sun broke through the leaves of your squirrel infested trees and made bright patterns on the sidewalks built before wheel chairs and crutches were invented, as I walked to work this morning. The sidewalks that haven’t been touched by the hand of maintenance since then and will make you fall on your face if you dear look up and make eye contact with the people sitting out on their front steps in the a.m, amongst empty beer cans and barking dogs.
Oh, Old Town, how I complained about you. Your location. Said you were on the wrong side of the tracks when clearly, you were right where you’re supposed to be. Your people. But who am I to judge? Supply and demand as the first rule of business is probably even older than you, dear Old Town. If the crack heads all live in a place and crack is your business, then take your business to that place and you shall thrive.
Right?
Your empty windows, your shady bars, your unused and withered potential… Oh Old Town, you are the grandmother that fails to adapt to the world, the movie that nobody gets, the joke that was actually a tragedy.
I am moving soon. Moving on.
And only now do I begin to see you for what you are. Only now am I seeing the beauty of emptiness and the charm of misfits. I want you to know that I will miss you. Miss you like that grandmother when she’s gone. Like the movie when you lost that tape and it doesn’t even matter cause nobody has a VCR anymore. When I leave, you won’t be a joke. Or, you will be the best joke.
Oh, Old Town. Give me one last hug. Embrace me with filth, drugs, inappropriateness and hopelessness. For you have a place in my heart.
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