602 Biddle Street

Where did you go?

I remember when we first met. You stood in front of me, gazing up at my face, staring at the front door as if, after all this time, it could possibly not exist. You walked up to it, and it opened. Something about the way you held your head, or the look in your eyes, a glint that seemed to be the result of the marriage between your mother’s hope and your father’s sacrifice, of the souls of the ones who came before you. You stood there, holding the key to each one of your ancestor’s dreams, the key to something they so desired but could never possess, like Icarus and the call of the sun. You held the key to something your own; you held the key to me.

I gave you four walls and a roof, and you gave me a purpose, a reason to stand tall and strong. You lit up the windows so my eyes could shine upon the street at night. You opened the door so I could always have the chance to speak, even if silence suited me. You painted my face, a bright red, so I could feel beautiful. You gave me a soul.

Where did you go?
I remember the day you left. Your head was held differently, your eyes did not shine like they did before. I wanted to follow you as you walked away that day, and I surely would have had I not been bound to this earth. Unlike you, this street is where I was born, and it is where I will eventually die.

Since you left, no one cares. The paint has worn thin by weather and apathy; my face is old, tired, and gray. The windows are broken from bricks and Molotov cocktails; my eyes shine no longer. The door was boarded up by a man who lives out in the suburbs; my mouth has been rendered mute. My soul, which once soared with the hopes and dreams of your family, now plunges to the bottom with the despair of the squatter and the insanity of the binger.

Where did you go?
I do not know. Maybe you departed for a better neighborhood, maybe you found a street worthy of your feet. I hope you have. But you should know that I miss you, that I need you. I can do better for you, we all can.

Where did you go?
I hope you’ll come back.