Down Jamaica Plain way he took us one morning
The avenues were lined with pluming trees
Green with the season their branches shadowed the sun
It was my first time in this part of the city
Somehow I thought it had all been a bit more impoverished
What an idealist I am
This middle class village gave me a sigh
On the way out the squares seemed endless
Names like Harvard and Copley
Now on his street the trees still hung as they might
Protectors of his lost youth
Number nine was unremarkable
He had me park a short distance away
The names and years rolled from his tongue
Unfurling tales of his mysterious youth
On and on the tales spun
So and so lived there
The pond ice was checked by horses
Your great aunt lived there
After a spell he hushed and I put it in drive
Slowly our vehicle cruised past
My son in the back waved at the house
I turned to my father and nodded.
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