at the isle
at the passenger seat, four door car full. colleague at the helm spouting car policy, no drinks, no cigarette ash, no fighting. canada lite clinking in the trunk, a shroud of gray overcast.
the plan took over two hours, these fools. called me up, pressured. here i was on our way to belle isle, the day was clear before. now driving in jefferson, the brooding sky lay attentive to spill its contents.
haven't been in here for almost 10 years. the lawless days of criminal activities clung to the back of my mind. the abhorrent filth, the true to letter depiction of detroit and its reputation.
bell isle.
but we were more worried about spilling beer on heated leather seats, the dormant stormy sky's spillage -- than being shot or mugged.
we crossed the bridge from detroit into the island known as bell. bell isle. then it struck us like thunder roiling behind some clouds -- the place is spic and span clean. whiteness and green contrast each other. garbage were non-apparent, structures were painted and kept. and what's this -- white people? of all people, highschool people, jogging...
with much bemused consternation, we parked. beer bottles in hand, a quick stroll to the FENCED wharf. besides a picnic station. i walk flank-wise and came upon rocky shore. it fell quick deep, like some panorama of a condemned man in the gallows. i feel something will dart within the murk, i came back by the fenced wharf.
the boys are getting restless. a light drizzle started to pepper the lake. we took harbor at the roofed picnic shelter. amidst used condom tubes glistening like limpid skin of some lurid serpent, amidst cigarette butts, beer bottles and cans, spent mcdonald bags, peanut shells, grime, drizzle and grime -- amidst this and across -- lay the pomp clean shore of windsor.
i put both hands on the fence, and shook. rust and dripping water draped and sprayed. and felt like a palestinian looking out at the greener grass of israel. or something similiarly stupid and incomparable.
we drove back, driver condemned us of drinking, the potential of drinking. we got pulled over while he was in the middle of it all. going 10 on a 20 mph.
the light drizzle on open window, the officer stuck his head within. I looked at his glock in his holster, glistening wet in the rain. at least bell isle is much cleaner. i told myself.
the plan took over two hours, these fools. called me up, pressured. here i was on our way to belle isle, the day was clear before. now driving in jefferson, the brooding sky lay attentive to spill its contents.
haven't been in here for almost 10 years. the lawless days of criminal activities clung to the back of my mind. the abhorrent filth, the true to letter depiction of detroit and its reputation.
bell isle.
but we were more worried about spilling beer on heated leather seats, the dormant stormy sky's spillage -- than being shot or mugged.
we crossed the bridge from detroit into the island known as bell. bell isle. then it struck us like thunder roiling behind some clouds -- the place is spic and span clean. whiteness and green contrast each other. garbage were non-apparent, structures were painted and kept. and what's this -- white people? of all people, highschool people, jogging...
with much bemused consternation, we parked. beer bottles in hand, a quick stroll to the FENCED wharf. besides a picnic station. i walk flank-wise and came upon rocky shore. it fell quick deep, like some panorama of a condemned man in the gallows. i feel something will dart within the murk, i came back by the fenced wharf.
the boys are getting restless. a light drizzle started to pepper the lake. we took harbor at the roofed picnic shelter. amidst used condom tubes glistening like limpid skin of some lurid serpent, amidst cigarette butts, beer bottles and cans, spent mcdonald bags, peanut shells, grime, drizzle and grime -- amidst this and across -- lay the pomp clean shore of windsor.
i put both hands on the fence, and shook. rust and dripping water draped and sprayed. and felt like a palestinian looking out at the greener grass of israel. or something similiarly stupid and incomparable.
we drove back, driver condemned us of drinking, the potential of drinking. we got pulled over while he was in the middle of it all. going 10 on a 20 mph.
the light drizzle on open window, the officer stuck his head within. I looked at his glock in his holster, glistening wet in the rain. at least bell isle is much cleaner. i told myself.