Shades of cool: Astoria, Queens
Just weeks before the Domino Sugar Factory is demolished, I went to see Kara Walkers mammoth art installation. The air was seeped in sugar and the mood was evocative of Langston Hughes poem, “A Dream Deferred.” The space was quite literally dripping in history. Click to see more pictures.
To the sea of people I pass everyday
I do not know your names
Or where you come from
Or if you prefer Chardonnay
You are irreplaceable
Like salt, the stars and rain
"The only credential the city asked was the boldness to dream. For those who did, it unlocked its gates and its treasures, not caring who they were or where they came from." -Moss Hart
Kids on the back porch shucking corn.
The crisp checkered tablecloth rambunctiously adorned.
Gallons of iced-tea, baked beans, grilled meat
dripping in sauce, popsicles, assortment of half-melted treats.
Babies being bounced from hip to hip.
July performs another perfectly orchestrated picnic.
Kaleidoscope colors of red, white and brilliant royal
Blues playing on the radio. Fireflies flicker.
"It’s almost time for dinner."
Glasses raised high under the sweltering sun—- a toast
to timeless traditions cherished from coast to coast.
Barrage of shutter-clicks release.
Miles and miles of cuffed torn jeans.
American flags unfurled and fireworks blaze
across the sky shimmering fluorescent rays.
Boom, bang, sparkle, crash
Ooooh, awe, linger unabashed.
Kiddos crazed with adrenaline and dreams
Twirling wildly with sparklers
hearts bursting at the seams.
Swept up I tumble into the whirl
skirts fluttery flying—
I love dancing with little girls.
The scent of honeysuckle and gunpowder is heavy in the air.
Tchaikovsky’s 1812 throbs—-throbs—-throbs everywhere…