One, Two, Three O'Clock, Four O'Clock Rock

         
driving up the North end
then down the back road
into Clarendon Section

she smiled
it was good to be back
she hadn't visited...

no one that she knew
lived here anymore...

arriving in the The Plaza
she hunted for a parking space
then walked around 

the Plaza was a parking lot
crowded with flea market tables
a small petting zoo

sure didn't seem like her home Town
except for the animals

standing in front of a small monument
where the Plaza island used to be
she recalled a death at Christmastime
something about a cherry-picker
and putting up the Town tree

she remembered the old men
hanging out 
sitting in the sunshine
with their containers 
hot tea and soda biscuits

palavering and waiting
to watch commuters come home
especially the girls

it was just a patch of grass
with a small bus shelter
but they loved it...

where else could they go?

now she felt the loss
of innocence, ambience

replaced by whirling activity, 
pedestrians, children
mostly out-of-townerss 

once pigs were raised here
there were farms, picket fences
doors left open at night
family plots for burying

standing at the monument
she could almost see 
the portable bandstand
where live music
was played every Wednesday

during the summer
bands played Frankie Lyman
Bill Haley and the Comets
that summer she was thirteen

One, Two, Three O'Clock, Four O'Clock Rock
Five, Six, Seven O'Clock, Eight O'Clock Rock
she hummed as she drove away

Copyright, Barbara Gari Serio, 1998