Over at dVerse, the poet’s bar, Sarah, ( in Poetics) listed some street names for us, suggesting that we “imagine what the street is like…or who might live there…or how the name came about”; that we “be whimsical, be dark, be quirky, be funny, be mysterious!” I used Silver Street, Buttgarden Street, Dragon Hill, Gas Lane, Potacre Street and a nod to Rope Walk in this fictitious romp of rhyme.
I grew up on Silver Street
next door to a boy with golden hair
Now I’m long away, my hair turned gray
But that boy he still lives back there.
Recently I meandered the old haunts
Poked around Buttgarden, then up along Dragon Hill
I dragged my ass past the Lane called Gas
Ended back at Silver, to see if that boy lives there still.
I found him still on Silver
Found him tending his garden plot
He was working hard in his big backyard
Tending an acre of pot.
It seems he’d found an elixir
For he was yet very much like a youth
His hair still gold, he hadn’t grown old
I swear I’m telling the truth.
As aging was getting me down
I took him up on his offer, together we got high
And this is no joke, must be the smoke
I began to feel twinkly and spry.
When I finally went to leave
He sent me off with a twist of rope
Yes it was hemp, brings such content;
To think I once thought him a dope.