Rose Tunnel Poem by Susan Detlefsen

When you walk through it
Pure pink rose perfume
Will fill your head
Make you drunker than Rimbaud.
Pretty pink roses will envelop your soul
Transport you to the place where Baudelaire's sister was invited.
Pure pink roses will shade your eyes
Make your skin forget the scorching summer sun.
And in winter, bare rose branches, sad, but strong,
And resilient green leaves,
And rotting rose hips
Will protect you from the rain.
There, pure pink roses want to tell you stories
Of murders and mysteries,
Of motor cycle gangs, and midnight kisses.
There, in a humble Portland neighborhood,
Forgotten by hipsters,
Overlooked by real estate listers,
There, in Southeast Portland,
There's a pink rose tunnel.
And I know where it is.