Buffalove/Buffalost - a poem for home

“Buffalove/Buffalost”  by Eddie Gomez

I think I hurt my eyes staring at too many sunsets

Never knowing how lucky I was, the only major city in the northeast

Where the sun sets over the water, if only it were a little hotter

All they see is the cold and ice but the view is so nice

Here, you can experience 4 seasons in one day… I only wish you could stay

Then you could wipe away the stereotypes from your eyes and see the beauty.

The place I was born, cold or warm, I love my city…  But not everyone does

From an afterthought to none, since 1901, they say we’re cursed,

On a losing streak, or worse- our outlook always bleak but

We’ve survived countless tragedies and mistakes…

Stanley Cup failure and Super Bowl heartbreaks

So you think you know embarrassment? How about during your city’s biggest moment

Someone shoots the president. We couldn’t stop it.

Nor could we stop our jobs from moving overseas, leaving us with the residue and waste

Placed underground and on every corner, like generations of hard work erased

Leaving a dead city of job mourners

I find suburban sprawl to be a culture choke but you say its economic growth

I guess THAT kind of doublespeak, is for rich folks

Even after they dropped their expressways onto our parkways 

with the ease of a plow on snow days, we weren’t phased

Beautiful green and trees, now gray and paved, those who were saved left for another place

But this is where I drew my first breath, I inhaled and everybody left

I exhale and I learn, they probably won’t return, out of fear it’s COLD 6 months of the year

Out of fear of urban decay and October surprises, but the real surprise is… we’re still here

I’ve seen enough starving artists to know
why many leave Buffalo

Send our best to New York and Chicago (literally)

They may know why they left but not what they leave behind

Starving artists, swallowing their pride but still hungry inside

Are we the City of good neighbors or the City of good haters?

We use the change of seasons to justify our reasons but I don’t believe it

if you like your city pre-assembled and easy, then go ahead and leave it

But if you take pride in building blocks, taking something that is not

And turning it into something that was never going to be, don’t leave

People talk about comebacks but some of us never left.

Through all the defections and imported beers, We’re still here

We’re talking proud but we’re thin skinned

Maybe until the Bills win or the kids come back, things will stay like that

But we’ll still lay out the welcome mat and ask for a fair chance

Go on and check out our food, festivals and sights, Niagara Falls and architectural delights

We’ve always been more than chicken wings and novelty
more than blizzards and poverty

So forget what you read, this place is not dead

and if you bothered to see for yourself instead
you’d know how we roll…

our city...
smells like cheerios

I look down my street and I see more than a punchline, more than our mistakes

More than a checkered past, I see past all of the hate

A foundation of doubt thought about long ago
by those who left, tapped out or chose to stay home

While we stuck shovels into the earth, moved back all the dirt and rebuilt our dreams

And now I can see beyond my eyes, I see a city on the rise…
I guess

staring into sunsets can do that to you