Lubbington
by Casey Jespon
© 1999

Far from the mountainous breadbasket
Sits the humble urban village
Of yellow houses
Along parking strips of uncouth familiarity
Never does a shiny silver Desoto
Block the stainless firehydrant
Nor does the bobby, in his bluish-black uniform
Reek of Dunkin' Donuts
Across the street from the innocent-smelling butcher shop
Children in suspenders flock to the chiming triangle
Summoning them to unscrupulously delicious plates
Of fetucini, smothered in parmesean cheese
Outside a disgustingly well-mannered man
Not even of forty
Lightly most the perfect astroturf
And waits for 1956.

This poem won me second place in a poetry slam at the bakery/coffee house I read at regularly, and has been known to cause nostalgia in many baby boomers. It was even used in a performance piece at my school titled "Creation in my Mind," performed by my first crush (6 years long and going). I call this poem "a semi-American quasi-British mid-century urban utopia." You better believe it to Beaver!

Home More poems