I miss the walkability —
(walkability is a ridiculous word) —
of Hawthorne Boulevard,
of things being in easy, strolling reach.
I took it for granted —
the fresh fruit, fresh bread, fresh coffee, and the brownstone stoop.
But I live within a mile or two
of everything I could want or need.
If I had a bicycle
(and a Xanax)
I could get there without having to drive.
I love this part of town,
my part of town —
And even though I’m a Brentwood bungalow shy of perfect contentment,
there’s just no place I’d rather be.
Not even Hawthorne Boulevard.
Ok, Paris and London.
You have to spot me that.