On Pine Avenue

by Gene Grabiner

I was on Pine Avenue and met
a woman in a tired coat and sneakers
walking in the street, frozen snow piled
on the sidewalk.  She told me “this neighborhood
has gone down, the church on the corner
is closed and the snow’s too high anyway,
so I’m sticking to the road.”  She asked,
“where are you going?”  “To poetry;
to hear some, read some.”  “Do you mean psalms, hymns,
the word of God?”  “Poetry is the word,
upstairs at the book store.”  “Well — I’m going
to the Goodwill. You never know what
you can find there.”