A Neenah icon came down several years ago.  It wasn't a place that I regularly hung out at, but it was always THERE.  So one evening when I was leaving the bookstore at 5 I was stopped at the light in front of the semi-demolished bowling alley and noticed a man next to my car watching the removal of Lake Road Lanes.  Soon after, I wrote this poem.  When this photo came across in my Facebook newsfeed this morning...I remembered that I had written this poem at the time.

Through His Eyes

To me it was just an old bowling alley
 until the wrecking ball turned it
 into a pile of rubble
 a couple of weeks ago.
I didn't think much of it, aside from wondering
 what would appear in its place
 in the months to come.

Today I drove by the flattened war-zone
 stopping for a light,
 and noticed an old man
 watching from across the street.
Dump trucks were loading up
 and driving off
 with the remains of his Saturday night hang-out.

It never occurred to me
 that forty some years ago
 he had maybe met Alice there amidst the smoke
 and the noise of falling pins.
She probably watched him bowl a perfect game,
 twice in one evening,
 as she sat with Bea sipping Pabst Blue Ribbons
 with an ice cube,
 whispering about how handsome he looked
 in those gray flannel trousers.

I waited for the light to change,
 discreetly watching the old man,
 and I think I saw his eyes fill up a bit
 as he gazed sadly across at the destruction.

It wasn't a heart-wrenching loss to me
 to see this particular building go.
Not like some.
Bu all of a sudden
I missed the sight of that bowling alley.
It made me sad to think
 that Alice was maybe being buried for that old man
 all over again
 every time the dump truck hauled away another load.

The light turned green
 and I had to leave him behind
 with his gathering tears and his memories.