Contact theSOPAbout theSOPSupport theSOPWritersEditorsManaging Editors
theSOP logo
Published:April 29th, 2008 13:02 EST
31st Street Getaway

31st Street Getaway

By David Richardson

Passing dirty streetcorner

after dirty streetcorner,

long ago.

Squalid geometry.

With all those dissecting

miles

of asphalt, dotted by sewer plates, and narrowed

by endless rows

of parked cars

as far as one can see.

Making my way

to that sacred building of self-salvation

with its Ionic columns and Beaux-Art style,

where old friends

would wait

patiently

in exalted timelessness

among

law, travel, religion,

et cetera, et cetera;

poised to impart

all the beautiful philosophies

and jaw-agape

stanzas

and

stories and experiences and dreams and tragedies;

to coax the soul

from its back alleys.

And you sit a moment

and think "They are all dead now."

And the dark fact

that you had such a stark thought

makes you question for a

lonely

moment your sanity, or

at least

your immediate hold on your own

sopping emotions.

But you are pulled from this,

quickly,

but

ever

so gently, in all that vaulted solitude,

as you turn your eyes to those wonderful

rows, and your

nascent

epistemology.