Ashtabula
Ashtabula, my Ashtabula,
my city most high
where I ran up and
down her hills,
the only city in the universe,
my world, my mother, my milk,
my breath, my harbor,
the other end of the umbilical cord
that stretched a million miles,
the front yard of our house
on Murray Ave where I
ran and ran and never stopped,
my land of dreams,
of Municipal Stadium
where I ran 80 yards and
scored the winning touchdown
for the Cleveland Browns,
my friends Anthony, Pete, Joe,
and my different
kind of friend Barbara
whose skin was softer,
and who housed many secrets
inside her strange body,
and Vasillo who I found
the secrets within.
The umbilical cord stretched out
a million miles as I wandered
away from Ashtabula and
never broke loose.
’Twas I,
away in body but not in spirit.
This city is where I was born and raised.
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