Summer Progress' Memories

Away from the houses
And side streets, purged
From the love of the
Tight sprawl of suburbs,
Are the mangled bits
Of construction yards,
Filled with yellow metal
And the hopes of a softer
Feel than the force of
Creation and Destruction
That currently progresses.

Fences abound around
The quant backyards,
Keeping in Barb-bee-qs
And the kids’ pool parties.
The vibrant green grass
And hyper dogs learn
To depend on their
Constant summer memories.

White pickets fade to
Warning yellow tape
And bright orange
Plastic gates; progress
Is an ugly duckling.
Shoveled dirt is piled
To be steam rolled
And the smell of poured
Concrete is nice, but
The vandalism of wet
Cement is such a soft
Childhood memory.

Long live the era
Of feigned manifest.
Our destiny was
Fulfilled ages ago
So now all we have
Left is our silly sort
Of modern progress.