The Public Parklet mysteriously appeared
on September fourteen 2019
in front of the Marrakech Moroccan Restaurant
extending from the sidewalk out into the street
as if it were a gift from Allah.
A noteworthy structure, hard to ignore
45 feet long, of golden knotty pine
a pleasing fresh cut wood smell.
Our neighborhood’s most colossal bench
if not the city’s or even the Tri-State’s.
Suitable for a gospel choir
a Little League softball team
the audiences for a street preacher or an anarchist
up to seven homeless youth sleeping end to end
or a ski jump platform for the skateboarders.
A new sign explains that the parklet is designed
for “people and pets to linger and connect.”
Also, “No Smoking.”
As you might guess the community response
has been reserved, even dismissive.
On NextDoorClifton the nay-sayers and the nit-pickers
complain that the parklet has absconded
with two treasured parking spaces.
And that it is bone-headed because it is 20 yards away from
the Clifton Plaza with its many benches, tables, seats
and its ample opportunities for lingering and connecting.
And what, anyway, is the point of a 45-foot-long bench?
(Most NextDoorClifton contributors are reputed to be crotchety.)
Personally I have been keeping my eye on the parklet.
Mostly it sustains a population of zero.
One day at 4 p.m. there were two male Indian students chuckling.
Another time two thirty-something men with long black beards
lingered though they did not seem to be connecting.
In an effort to grease the wheels
I sit at the parklet every now and then.
A young woman smiled at me the first time.
Later a middle-aged woman with a chihuahua
rested for five minutes at the opposite end.
The parklet, of course, offers more than rest.
This very poem that you are reading
was not only inspired by but composed at the parklet.
Not the founders’ original intent
but we now have a new poetry writing venue on Ludlow Ave.
Who would have guessed?
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