Lake Street is Burning

I live far away now
among the the trees and ponds
wind in the pines and scent of plum blossoms

But once long ago
I shared lunch and smoked weed with the brothers
my brothers
as we watched a foreign war from the ship yards of Philadelphia
and neighborhoods burning on both sides
of oceans

Yet we were brothers only of the day
as they went to their quarter and I mine
after our daily wages were won
theirs likely skinnier for their precious time
and we would not together
know the dark

The skies were grey from smog and smoke
the river putrid then
oil in the wind and tar on the soles
as protests raged that hot and humid summer
nearly too much for a Minnesota boy
to comprehend

all those miles from home
race
equality
environment
the ghetto
the violence of authority
the War

Will we undo now
what we knew as truth then
that we were different
different
in language
and mannerism
and humor
and color
and experience
and for no good goddamn reason
different
so I went to my quarter
and they theirs
at the end of the same day's labor

Lake street is burning