RoseAnn V. Shawiak (October 6,1950 / New Jersey)
Horse Shoe Cafe
Having breakfast at the Horse Shoe Cafe, sitting in the window,
watching the town crawl by.
Been living here now almost two years.
Wickenburg reminds me of my own home town, except for the western
Looking up and down main street, enjoying the ambiance of Saguaro
Movie Theater and all the little shops - quaint and touching.
A beautiful two-story at the end of main street on the other side
exudes class and clarity of the past.
Now standing empty, no wares to ply - a 'For Lease' sign in a bottom
Soon to be no more than a memory in the not too distant future.
Wickenburg is losing it's cornerstone of western civility to make
way for a bypass someone decided was more important.
How sad - another part of Wickenburg's past pride laid low by so-
called progressive individuals, holding tightly to the dollar signs
in their eyes.
Traffic, non-plused by anything, meandering thru town, no intention
of stopping or browsing - there's not much of interest here anymore
unless you're hungry, and stop in one of their few eating holes.
Bars for the empty, lonesome cowboys and drifters, smiling their neon
signs in their windows.
Yes, Wickenburg is a beautiful western town, but only for a little
while, because developers are intent on pushing it forward, much like
they did to another small western town named Scottsdale.
Developers won't be happy until they've destroyed the last of
Arizona's western frontiers and heritage for a buck.
Wickenburg, I'll miss you, a fond farewell, a memory set in a poem -
a knowing in my heart - that all is not well and Wickenburg will
fall to developers - leaving it's natives to wonder how it happened.
Comments about this poem (Horse Shoe Cafe by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
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