By Noel A. Ihebuzor and Susan L. Daniels
Another wandering day finds worn out minds
worrying on a wavering road wound tightly around anxious
feet lost and soles tired, tiring,
endless stomping, souls emptying, core eroding
trapped penniless in hard bone want
rides and crosses opulence heaving full breasted
never meeting anywhere or nowhere, desert islands, different
indifference, whether in narrow winding slums spawning hovels, grime, crime and anomie or in suffocating metallic structures that pierce the sky
seated on wide arteries on gridlocked checker boards
where automobiles choke the lungs with fumes of affluence,
Here, this city no longer smells of steel galvanizing
but oats baking into cereal O’s, and the main street
pedestrian mall frames four tracks for trains that do nothing
but run from the banks to the university
in a 30-year straight line, all the stores closed
except pharmacies, pawn shops, Chinese take-out,
stores that sell bright synthetic shoes for drag queens and prostitutes
or lottery tickets, cigarettes, and beer
The city sprawls, growls, as grim faces with automated smiles
and ATM voices greet and grit set teeth
co-travellers on the subway, rush without seeing, not feeling
and when seeing move on before sunshine thaws well frozen
protector shields of indifference and anonymity
to open a space now dreaded in this place where we pace
in a metal jungle of tubular bars, well rehearsed smiles,
a maze that breathes fear
behind stale glass windows or airless hovels
that color eyes and imprison minds
and minds stagnate in the stupor of sterile promises
that become hazier as mind become heavier, and stubborn dreams
slowly tip to cheap end points, needles, skins, threads and ropes
This is my downtown, my city of brown and black faces
strangled by surrounding white arms, where all the jobs grow
past the bus lines and reverse commutes from suburb to suburb;
but still in this heart blocked by abandoned factories
rises an energy. Students fill the coffeehouses and jazz clubs,
wrapped in black, borrowed sophistication after a night
in the theatre district or gallery parties, and warehouses shift to lofts
and still more galleries, pop-up shows mushrooming between the cracks of sidewalks
like brilliant intoxicating fungi
as street festivals paint the air
with basil and cinnamon, mixing with those oats
urban centres call
sell hopes that reach for a sky
darkened by hard hearts
those sidewalks
littered landscaping
of trash cans never emptied
dreams full of promise
so emptying
***As always, this was fun! I am the voice in italics, Noel’s voice is in regular type.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
My heart gives this a standing O
Thank you so much–ours bow back to you! This was fun!
Susan, this reads so beautifully!
It does, Noel! I love it. Sometime soon we are going to have to figure out how to pass a recording back and forth to read one of these duets out loud and put it on our blogs. I think this one would be fantastic read aloud!
Wow. Welcome back you two. This one unsettled me, made me sad, made me wonder what it would be like to live in such an environment and if I ever could, then drew me into the magic that it does hold…the community, not just of buildings or places, but people. Alive and vibrant and full of promises of tomorrow. Thanks, very muck like!
Thanks! We wrote this in late July, for a magazine with an urban focus, and decided to compare cities from 2 hemispheres. Glad you liked!
Very much so. And I agree with you…hearing this, or any of your duets, would be awesome. Somewhere out there in this great community, there is someone who knows how this could be done!
I agree–and I would prefer to do it without buying a sound upgrade–I am SO cheap.
I here you on that one. perhaps you tube and then link it to your blogs. not sure as I’m not one who knows of such things, but it would be wonderful.
oh, I agree–we have to try. going to run this by my duet partner to see if we can figure something out.
Good. (still say you should talk to the Dad Poet)
Oh! Thanks for the reminder!
anytime.
Ah great to read nice to explore different views of the world
Thanks much, Bruce. These duets are certainly addictive, aren’t they?