The City of its Own Truth
Daniel Romo
“City of Churches.” Paul Klee. Switzerland, 1918
The City of Its Own Truth
Welcome to this lovely city, where values and viewpoints never change, each vista a snapshot capturing an era where time and equal rights stood still; where laws this country was founded upon remain outdated and as sacred as the day this land was initially, peacefully-at-gunpoint, transferred over from the natives. This is a caring population who believes in the preservation of social class and culture. A family tree lush in lineage and luxury will always provide comforting shade and never need to be chopped. These are good, salt-of-the-earth folk who exist in their own melting pot without needing pepper, or paprika, or any other spice that would dilute its purity. You will no doubt enjoy your stay here as you live out the city’s motto, where all are one big homogeneous family—When you are here, you are always on a permanent vacation from gentrification.
The Park of Pretentiousness
If you pretend not to know the homeless sleep under the trees like an evergreen canopy, you can still claim your community possesses the most pristine parks this side of Heaven. Any encampment bound by poverty isn’t even worth acknowledging because downtrodden souls reek of slothfulness and Smirnoff. A man is less than a man and more mud when he allows his body to become one with the earth. But nature has a way of weeding out bad seeds that think they can bloom and shine for free. Getting a job is easy, so why not clean yourself up and make the simple choice to exchange destitution for restitution? No matter, this park is the perfect place to sit for families to enjoy a picnic lunch after Sunday service and mingle with members of society—because loving thy neighbor as thyself is the second-most important commandment behind loving thy God.
The Senior Citizen Center of Immobility
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, yet you can work on brain games with him to help him remember where he buried his bone. But no amount of muscle memory can alter deep-seated feelings predicated upon decades of prejudice. Men and women who have lived through an expansive, ever-changing world are simply stuck in their wheelchairs and their ways. Get off my lawn! is synonymous with a geriatric stick in the mud rooted in intolerance. Nap time has always been conveniently scheduled during hot topic social issues the residents would just as soon sleep through. However, they are split on the issue of color: some prefer green Jell-O, while others prefer red. Each night there is a very good chance this will be the last time the nurses will have to change their bedpans and the elderly will take their steadfast beliefs to their soggy deathbeds. Looking back on your life is a monochromatic autobiographical film when none of your memories are in black, but all of them are in white.
The DMV of No Apologies
This is the only place in which everyone is guilty of ignorance and never proven innocent. How many times can one be chastised for grabbing the wrong form? Employment requires a degree in Job Enjoyment, but learning to dislike one’s environment is a choice not a product of chance or even circumstance. Even the wealthy can’t buy a trip to the front of the line, and pre-scheduled appointments turn into disappointments as “the wait is longer than expected.” This setting is truly a melting pot of people at the mercy of men and women who may or may not yet have had lunch. But just because you can cover your left eye and it’s confirmed you can still recognize letters across the room, doesn’t mean you’ll acknowledge all that’s going on around you. It’s simply a matter of pulling up a chair and patiently waiting, making small talk with your fellow man, and understanding a microcosm is only as good as its larger model, before being issued a document that certifies you can legally drive back into your familiar, homogenized life.
The Ice Cream Truck of Never-ending Song
The Neapolitan metaphor is too easy and also a stretch—distinctly different flavors living in harmony, side-by-side in a plastic cup, because truth be told, not all flavors taste better when combined. ‘Round here, this simile is more apropos; The children chase after the truck like reaching for their American dream. A brown man born in another country cruises down the street while the offspring of an affluent village receive money from their moms to buy whatever sweets they want. The possibilities are endless when one inherits a blank childhood and check. But every treat tastes sweeter when worked for, and every dream is greater when achieved traveling at a speed greater than five miles an hour. Nonetheless, there are few things in life more poetic than kids running after a song no one knows the lyrics to, but everyone can hum either to relive or revive.
Daniel Romo is the author of Apologies in Reverse (FutureCycle Press 2019), When Kerosene’s Involved (Mojave River Press 2014), and Romancing Gravity (Silver Birch Press 2013). His poetry can be found in The Los Angeles Review, PANK, Gargoyle, and elsewhere. He has an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Queens University of Charlotte, and he lives and teaches in Long Beach, CA.