When you came to save me

or just help

or just to look about

the crumbling facade

and all its decay

gaps exposed

in the story we tell

made up as it is

of how we all live

together

or apart

in a world torn asunder

by selfishness,

we walked toward the old bridge

rusted and bent

against a blue autumn sky

and you told a story

of a different time

commonweal

when even politicians paid their taxes.

There was an honor, you said,

to chipping in

looking out for the other guy

sounds like an old movie now

the kind that kids don’t want to watch

because it’s in black and white.

The new TV’s can be set

to exaggerate color

eyesore gaudiness

coarsening the culture

deadens the pain

of what we have lost.

 

The pavement molders at my feet

and all that we stand upon

seems corrupted.

And yet, as I look down

beneath me

under the bridge

I see a workman coming

to start repairs.

 

-Danny Grosso