Port Byron, IL, and the
Dead
White
paint peels
on a
wooden three story house
with a
wrap-around porch. In the corner
of the
basement a Negro man sits in dirt.
He waits
for the station manager
to tell
him tonight he hides under canvas in a wagon
while a
conductor drives16 miles to the next depot,
one trip
closer to the US / Canadian border.
Outside of
the dwelling
on the
stagecoach route
he hears
the rev of combustion engines.
A quarter
mile away on North Main Street
one
hundred plus years of
ice
expansions, melted water contractions,
cracked
mud and muck
pried
stone foundations and brick-masonry.
Crews
finalize the deterioration
and
construct a strip mall.
Each unit
has a front and back window wall
bicyclists
look through see
recreational boats speed
and tugs
push barges transporting coal or grain.
At suite
201,
customers
open and close the door
of
the pub and eatery It’s on the River.
However,
the electric car dealership
who parked
their one car outside
and an
investment company vacated.
In most
cells wires dangle,
floors do
not have cement
and ghost
squatters coexist
with the
passersby
and the
commuting inhabitants.
—Salvatore
Marici
Previously
posted on the Visible City Project
-Quad
Cities blog.
