THE MANSION [ EXCERPT ]
______________________
June 2006:
It felt good to be in the old neighbourhood–
Travelling to a vegan potluck at a house
On Sutter Street on foot gave me
A chance to see my first home in the city again.
In between a
Solid brick Black Protestant church &
Expensive luxury condominiums was
A construction site.
Or rather, a destruction site.
Resting beneath a Bobcat
Bulldozer,
Broken stones,
Wooden slats,
And grey dust–
If that pile of rubble
Could tell stories,
It would
Of a sweet squat
Big enough to be a mansion.
An Edwardian Gothic spread
Built after the 1906 earthquake.
A mansion that housed
Battered women once.
Long de-populated
In high-end Japantown.
Re-opened by
The Autonomous Collective
A few months before
The Dirty Dog brought me into town.
The rooms of that grand old house
Had life again
For six months.
Re-populated by
Thirty souls
Who sought shelter despite
Increasing rents,
Waves of affluent
Asswipes.
I arrived for its
Last two months.
Tumble of broken stones,
Protruding, splintered wooden slats,
Mound of grey dust–
All that remained of
A safe haven for the poor.
My old home in the city
And you never forget your first.
Not every mansion is
Filled with the wealthy.
__________________
W: 6.13
The Dirty Dog: My nickname for the Greyhound bus.