Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

Welcome back to sweet, old Cheeky Boulevard,
Home to sundry insidious acts:
On one night you just might be Italian;
On another you might wield an axe.

Here no law has a say over destinies.
Men are men (women also, by chance).
Here the hicks won't invent a philosophy.
(They love chaos and raw circumstance.)

Come to Cheek'! Here you'll speak, free as rain, free of pain;
Here you'll finally gaze at the stars.
But beware! Once you're here, you may never steer clear
Of the hordes of undriveable cars—

There they rest on the lawns of the citizens.
You ain't local—ain't you got a truck?
Rusted out and unfixed, just about five or six
More of them sit around in the back.

Come and stay, far away from the city's hard light!
Come and bask in the famed island time.
Come to Cheeky, my friends, come for poetry,
And stay for the casual crime.