The Flats

Abandoned and
empty. A ghost town.
The streets are barren, aside from the
deserted shop and building fronts
Bombed with graffiti, left by those seeking
rememberance, and perhaps recognition,
and the occasionally clumisly hung vacancy
sign.
As he and I stroll through the desolate boulevard,
hand-in-hand.
Alone.
Together.
The ghosts of an intoxicated population
whisper to us memories in the constant draft.
The nostalgia of our surroundings strike every
sense we possess,
with every step we take.
We photograph every moment with our minds,
so we can review the snapshots of the day for
years to come.
That day, we walked around Cleveland as if we
owned the streets.