What the Rich Folks Left Behind

On Main and Quarter, a movie theater
Red, plush seats
A popcorn machine
Some empty soda cups
Straws still hanging out of them
Littering the aisles

On Main, a clothing store
With half-dressed mannequins

On Quarter, Bar 25
An upscale tavern
Where you could get great fish and chips
And have a conversation
About LBJ
If you wanted to

Two blocks down
On a street whose name I can't remember
There was a bookstore
That always smelled like peppermint

The door was left open
A window in a back room ajar
Two boxes of books
Still unpacked
Still taped up
Never read

The neighborhoods were tucked behind
Restless stone
Made to look like sea walls
Even though the nearest body of water
Was Lake Chopat
Two hours away

Speaking of the lake
There's a car sitting by it
With the keys still in the ignition
And tire tracks all around it
Like the other cars made a quick getaway
And forgot to take
Their little sister
With them

Not even the summer spots
Were salvaged
When the rich folks left

A shoe store's sign starting hanging low
And most boxes inside only had half a pair
The horns got dusty
And the cash register became a breadbox

All sorts of things transformed
From lack of use

Ice scream scoops became rainwater ladles
Barber chairs became birds' nests holders
Toy stores became museums
Exhibiting childhoods that never came true

Even churches stayed empty
Save for a squirrel here
And a congregation of rats after that

In the schools with the spotless walls
Mops fell sideways
And nobody picked them up

Grade books for the new school year
Were full of unchecked boxes
And the P.T.A.'s banner hanging in the cafeteria
Sagged under the weight
Of dust and dirt

The best schools were located
Directly across
From those choppy stone walls
So that the kids from those neighborhoods
Wouldn't even have to take a bus
Or ride a bike

Some parents could watch Little This or Baby That
Walk right across the street
And into their classrooms
All while they were at their kitchen sink
Doing the morning dishes

When school got out
The kids would walk back home
And if it was Fall they'd get a glass of cider
And some pumpkin bread

And if it was Christmas time
They'd get some eggnog and a cookie
Shaped like Santa Claus

And if it was winter it was hot chocolate
And a bowl of soup

Carrot sticks in the spring
With a few different dippings
And some fruit punch

Then when it was summer
They'd be out in the backyard all day
Swimming in their pools
And drinking lemonade

The last image we have in our minds
Is of those kids
Jumping in those pools

It's like a moving picture
That freezes
And then fades to black and white
And then to black
And then burns up
Like a piece of carbon paper

We don't know why that's the last thing we remember
About the rich folks

We never saw those pools
We never sat in those backyards
We never ventured past
The old stone walls
That, to us, looked like a mouth
Who would only chew us up
And spit us out

When the rich folks left town
They didn't go out in covered wagons
Or on buses
Or walking in single file lines
Towards wherever it was they were going

Instead they trickled out
Like they were being released from an eye-dropper

One at a time
Always in the early morning
Before we woke up

Or late at night
We'd hear car doors slamming
And engines running
And we'd know
That we lost another one

What could be so awful about living here, we asked ourselves
Lying in our beds
Fans aimed at our faces
Half-empty glasses of water
By our beds

What could be so bad
That you'd take off leaving
Stuffed animals still face-down
On unmade beds

Bags of flour tipped over on stovetops
Spilling into the burners

Toothbrushes on the edges of sinks
Spots of toothpaste still stuck
To the bristles

What could worry you so much
That you'd pick up and go
Like your floor
Was on fire?

We started looking around
At all the things
The rich folks left behind

What was broken?
What was bad?
What was hidden in these things
That made them undesirable?

A stain?
A spot?
A speck of something
That could be flicked away
Using on your breath?

We wondered if they got tired
Of the quiet
Maybe they were moving to bigger cities

But the tire tracks out of town
Didn't seem to be going
Towards the cities

Were they tired of the way things looked?
The way the signs hung?
The way the streetlamps spread?
The school colors?
The street signs?

We walked around the town
Wondering how we were going to clean up the mess
The rich folks had left

How could we clean up businesses that weren't ours?
Schools that we didn't go to?
Houses owned by somebody else?

We could barely afford to keep our own stuff looking nice
To keep the paint fresh on our own walls
To keep our clothes sewn
And our cars running

And now an entire town
That never really felt like
It was something
We could claim
Was our responsibility

And a lot of us didn't even want it
Because we kept wondering
What was wrong with it?

What was it about this place
That made it not worth keeping?

We didn't know

So we stuck to the spots we carved out for ourselves

The one playground
With the broken swingset
And the rusty slide

The old diner
With the stuffing come out of the booths
And the chili that would give you heartburn
Before you even finished eating it

The school three miles away
That wasn't much more
Than a bunch of cement blocks
Thrown together
Like the first little pig might've

And we let the rest go

I mean...

What else could we do?