Best Cleveland Poem 2013
 |
| Dianne Borsenik reads photo by Tim Misny |
Few
Dollar Man
my
Cleveland, I don’t mind him
being
a blue collar, few dollar man
don’t
need him all prettified,
gentrified,
riverwalked,
starched,
pressed and lean
I
like his urban sprawl
his
sports bars,
sports
cars,
Ford
trucks,
Great
Lakes brew
and
bratwurst,
his
rib fests and bare chests
he
can put on a suit and tie
if
the occasion calls for it
he
cleans up real nice
he’s
no “playhouse square”
he’s
a comfortable fit
I
like his long hair, level stare,
acting
like he doesn’t care,
blue
jeans and boots swagger,
his
never-say-die attitude,
his
rock and roll hammer
I
dig the punk, pensive,
ponytailed poet in him
ponytailed poet in him
I
like it when he shows his
ethnic
roots
and
I don’t mind his often gruff speech,
his
questionable grammar
don’t
mind his broken english,
city
slang
or
down-home twang,
his
sometimes breach
of
political tact
and
cultural fact
we have an understanding
I
don’t mind his tough sidewalks,
his
callused highways,
the
clumsy fumble of his
tumbledown
neighborhoods
don’t
mind the times his rough
streetlighting
catches at my clothes
in
the heavy dark
when
he’s running his transit
through
my hair
at
least he’s reaching out for me,
wants
to feel me close against him
I
don’t mind the stubble
on
his troubled street corners,
cold
Lake Erie steaming his breath,
his
bleary neon eyes,
his
wasted wallpaper billboards
too
many nights of revel
after
long days spent
in
steelwork,
car
shops,
west
side markets
and
east side offices,
orange-barreled
highway construction,
Clinic
halls
and
University malls
working,
giving
all he’s got,
just
making a living
I
trust him; I know he has my back,
I
know he’s looking out for me
my
Cleveland, I don’t mind him
being
a blue collar, few dollar man.
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