You like to think that something
changes when you leave.
That somehow the landscape will be different.
That something would have sensed the moving truck and boxes
and felt a loss, of something,
of someone who had lived their life
there for years.
But the street
and the sidewalk
remain the same.
Your apartment gets
a fresh coat of paint and new renters.
Fingerprints on the doors and
murals painted on the walls,
Scuff marks on linoleum and
dents in the refrigerator door,
Beer caked in the carpets and
wine stains in the sink ,
The laughter shouted from the rooftop and
the crying on the fire escape,
Your blood dried on the pavement,
all dissipate into the ether.
for the next tenant.
Life goes by
on Avenue B
like you were never there.
are all centuries older than you.
Your stint is just a flash
in their history.
In a city of such anonymity,
years don’t even add up to a footnote.
Andrea Janov is a punk rock kid who believes in the beauty of the ordinary, the power of the vernacular, and the history of the abandoned. She strives to reveal the power in what we see, say, do, ignore, and forget every day. Her collection, Mix Tapes and Photo Albums, (EMP Books) is available on www.andreajanov.com.