Line by Line in the Walking City

Prompt 12: Write a city poem.


Line by Line in the Walking City

It is
Twelve. Nineteen. Thirteen.
Two hours and fifteen minutes later,
I met the Silver Line at Logan’s
and passed by the bay that once consumed tea.
It is now frozen with moored sailboats and ferries.
First exit and I look up to read,
“Welcome to the Home of the Red Sox and Celtics!”

By a corner of shoveled snow,
I visited the South Station to purchase
A Charlie pass to route through the city.
For minutes, I trailed the Walk of Freedom.
Before meeting the Red Line to Harvard,
another set of welcome letters
spoke freely in bold crimson.
Here, I taste of sparkling water,
fresh seafood, spring greens, and crepes
by the scent of roasted coffee beans.
Topics by noon:
Research. Literature. History.

On Bus 86, I note of the city’s day-to-day blues,
then chime an exit to Lechmere.
Before reaching Heath,
I observed art collections of ancient Egypt to American contemporary,
Draped tribal patterns and textures,
Centered pieces of antique gems,
And walls mounted with frames displaying loud and silent love expressions.

Then, I noticed the stars peeking through the clouds
And the songs stringed through the night:
The Nutcracker’s anthem
And We Miss You a Merry Christmas.
I began to think of home.
Then, I check-in to my suite.

In the A.M., the sun and I smiled together.
Then, I hopped on the Orange Line train.
From Oak Groove to Forest Hill,
I realized diversity,
Studied various graffiti, and chuckled at the images photographed for Vans.
I snapped a few photos.
Thought of home.
Forgot about the Blue.
Assembled myself to meet the Silver again.



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