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BROOKLYN NEIGHBORHOOD

When winged wheels touched the crazy tracks of JFK
I saw the land of milk and honey in

the air-conditioned check-in counters
the grand highways
the charming stores
the calm streets lined with trees and pale-green posts.

"This is Queens," my aunt said.
I saw Victorian-like cluttered houses broken at intervals by
narrow streets
Within, the wooden floor

the long numbered stairs
some century-old bed stand
the abundant mattress
the multiple-channeled television
the delicate smallness of a sewing-dressing room
the freshwater aromaed bathroom
the lined wood-rich closets, silver bare sink
jewelled 'pots and dishes, specked-clean stove, the plentiful
refrigerator
the checkered floor.
Without in the bright sunshine,
I saw neatly-paved streets
the fresh, clean lawns sprinkled with flowers
the talkative neighbors
the La Guardian planes flying overhead
the juicy-red apples, plump grapes in the "fruit"
department
the pyramid tins and packages filling every shelf _
You name it, the item is there.

On running wheels, every slope is rich green
green with vast lawn
green with trees

Is packed with vacant, broad roads
That's Queens.

"This is Brooklyn!" my snobbish mind screamed.
I saw dark menancing towers

wall cracks where Paris plaster could not swallow
some careless names in the slots of the vestibule
Smelled the odor of disinfectant mixed with dirt arising
from the floor
a script of four-letter words in the elevator
the shadowy passage walled in dusk-green
the crowed apartment

crowded in smallness
crowded with furniture
crowded when I saw through the window another
person's bedroom.
Around the east block, the orange bricks, yellowed windows of
Clara Barton High School for Health Professions proudly stands
Little P.S. 421 with its back wall battered by handballers
Carroll Street, lined with cars, a U-haul, a garbage trailer
a tree pitifully burdened at its feet by a garbage can over-
flowing with its contents
at a stoop, a relaxing mother talked to some children
Beyond, a boardwalk shakes with fear every time a shuttle moves
under
Further on, Carrol Street is sly
owning a MTA and a garage whose windows and doors
cemented and screened.

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