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in 1960 I bought

a 1955 chevy impala

2 door hard top

skirts and lacquered paint job

cool as shit

and every saturday

me and my newly wed woman

jumped in it for a cruise

and where did we drive

to another part of brooklyn

​of course​

we came from brownsville

before we got married

now we lived in

east flatbush

a better neighborhood

more or less

but better


and where do we drive

well to a better


to look and see

and be seen

in our chevy coolness

down kings highway

where the really

good neighborhoods are

where the apt houses

get larger

the deeper in you glide

and sharper

now with elevators

and now with balconies

where you could stand​

digging the whole

​god damn​ scene

​if you wanted​

​and we kept cruising

until it

finally end​ed

with doubled wing

huge apt houses

with white brick fronts

​with two elevators

in the tile lobby

with a couch

your friends could

sit on

waiting for

you to come down

with uniformed doormen

out front

under a​ long ​purple canopy

on a leafy

brooklyn street

dappled by brooklyn sunshine

then came red brick private homes

​stacked side by side​

their driveways​

side by side

with brand new cars

in them

sparkling with their shiny

clean paint

​just being there

not afraid of being robbed

the windows were left open​

we stared at this

​wonder​ of wonders

as we traveled through

the interior

of our dull minds

and as it ​became ​late

we began our joyous return

on the exact same streets

with stop lights

with stop signs

with​ heavy​ traffic building

with rock radio blasting

we arrived home

to our 3 room apt

in east Flatbush

a few avenues away

​​from bad Brownsville

​were we both were from​

she made dinner

hot dogs

and potato salad

and dr browns cream soda

and the days

moved on like that

soon we had a kid

we took him on our trips

but it just wasn't

the same

it became

too hard

no fun

we brought diapers



and bottles

for ​his​ milk

and crazy toys

no talking too loud

no radio on

he was sleeping

or peeing

or crying

or vomiting

or screaming


so we stopped going

soon the car got old

​she got tired​

and the food at home

got worse

the nights got longer

she got tired

and I started

to take long rides

by myself

the neighborhoods

got bad

then worse

and the bars

​became​ darker

lonely holes

and dangerous

and the Spanish girls

in the shadows

with their

black eyes flashing

their mouths snarling

and laughing

pointing at me

hey man

dis aint no west side story ​in ​here

we aint Maria you know

​and yo mister​

what's a jive ass

Jewish boy

​looking like you​

doing here

and there was​ really​

no way I could tell them what

I was doing t​here​

I​ was ​just wait​ing ​

to see what

would come down

as I drank​​ my scotch

at the bar and ate

french fried potatoes

covered with ketchup

drenched in salt

for my dinner

Little Guy 0960

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