Kay Rothman's MapSites -
Putting Lab School Writing on the Map
HOME | ALL STORIES | BY AUTHOR |
 



WILLIAMSBURG

Most of the Irish are gone from here They have gone from here. Others have taken their pride, they left them with nothing. They left them with nothing in Williamsburg. There are bottle caps that Francie missed. Junk The junk to bring to Carney's. A fourth for me a fourth for you, And a pinching penny, while half of our money goes to the bank that has never ever been full. To Cheap Charlie's, to Gimpy's, To the high- priced nickel and dime store. To these places That might have stood. The lots are still there, the sounds of the balls sill Echo. No boys roam, no gangs taunt. The little Jew boy is long gone and the pretzel boy, too. But you can still hear the pretzel boy shouting, Pretzels for sale! And the little Jew boy still walks the streets saying Gol-lee! Gol-lee! What were once stores that held marbles and little spinning tops, now hold technology. They are now the homes to Gameboy SPs, X boxes, Gamecubes, Playstation 2s, and The Sims. Now there is more than just theater, there are movies, radios, televisions, and walkmans. Music of the past is not paid much attention to now, now they crave hip-hop, rap, and a mix of the two. In the chuches, you can hear Francie if all is peaceful she is confessing her sins, she is writing her book.

The story was posted on 0000-00-00