Stranger in my own country

Remember Rick's Market? I found these pics I took back, when, around 2004, 2005? The friendly neighborhood grocery store when I used to live in Northeast. Lots of memories in that place, including the time I broke my ankle and my friend Amy helped me grocery shop. It wasn't trendy but it was friendly. I knew I had to take photos before it was torn down for the Lunds and Cobalt Blue condos. That brick building used to be a school. It was hard to imagine at that time what the new space would look like. The bar next door to Rick's moved across the street and the bar across the street changed names, used to be the Union. I wrote a poem at that bar - I'll include it below. Thanks also to 5 am, where this poem appeared summer 2005.

At the Union

At the Union Grill & Bar,

the beers are flowing at 11 am.

CNN replays trails of white plumage

across the Texas sky.

Seven astronauts perished this same week

17 years ago.

What was I doing then?

Same as the country,

not paying attention.

Then the explosions came,

nameless faces

all too real after a short encounter

and my gut rumbled

every time I saw their image.

As a little girl, I thought someday I'd get to outer space.

Figured out how old I'd be in

the year 2000.

Back at the Union it's almost noon.

Gravity keeps me hostage

to another beer,

another blind date

with a stranger in my own country.