Hoboken

A memory of my father

If I close my eyes 

I can be taken back to the cobble stone streets of Hoboken

Late 90's

I'm in the backseat of "the Toyota"

Light grey interior 

Strong waffs of musk cologne and tobacco

Before the Wall Street khaki pants cretins jacked up the rent

Before Pilates and Organic Granola 

Before the towers came down

So much has changed

It is a city that I can only visit in my dreams now

A city where last names ended in "tino" or "breesi"

A city not afraid to show it's teeth

A city built by the grit of the working class

My pops was my tour guide

Dressed as sharp as a guillotine

Pointing to the hospital I was born in 

The happiest day of his life

The sight of his first son

A line of spiritual succession

The Brownstone stoop steps painted in pride

I hold this memory close like an heirloom

And now it lives forever.