Minneapolis Requiem
/Paul Skye
When the North Loop was the Warehouse District
and Target Field a surface lot hemmed in
by train tracks not yet busy with Dakotan oil,
a gruff man with a Santa beard
pushed a shopping cart from his camp
on a forgotten loading dock
across cracked concrete and cobblestone
of forgotten streets
fertile with the blood of the 1934 Truckers’ Strike
and the Natty Ice that sloshed
from his ever-present Sprite bottle.
He used to sweep the sidewalk
in front of J.D. Hoyt’s
in exchange for Sunday brunch
with his family.
The sweetest goddamn thing you ever heard.
My co-worker found him frozen
in a bus shelter
across the parking lot
from his camp
under a timed out heat lamp.
2. Lowell
Before Rapson’s Guthrie was razed
and Nouvel’s ever more modern landmark
took its place on Mississippi's shores,
before Mill Ruins or Gold Medal Parks,
in the days before the razing
of Liquor Depot,
when Chaz would sometimes slumber
under the high voltage wires
and Dennis and Canada Dan camped
hillside beneath Minnegasco,
on the coldest nights there were those
who would seek shelter
in abandoned grain elevators.
One such man, Lowell, tall, thin, warm,
taught me to say Miigwetch, Ojibwe for thank you.
Lowell got himself in the Strib
after plunging to his death
one dark winter night
on stolen Lakota land.
3. Cerione
When Surly was not yet the moniker
of any local companies,
much less two,
when light rail seemed
an impossible dream,
a more tranquil University
Avenue.
More leafy places to make camp
near 280 and Kasota,
like the one behind KSTP
he shared with Charlie Buchanan
for what felt like a long time.
They called him Patch
or Irish,
and while it would be accurate
to call him a one-eyed
homeless
alcoholic
immigrant,
it would be incomplete
in equal measure.
He was the warmest man on the streets,
receiving guests and visitors
as if they were royalty
seated on thrones
of overturned pickle buckets.
Reach through decades for a snapshot
of a memory
of a dog.
Was there a dog?
Didn’t he love her?
Didn’t she die?
He drank and wept and drank some more.
And when he went,
the Whiskey Johns and
Charlie Buchanans of the world
were left to tramp alone,
the ache of that son of the isle
caught in their breath.
4. Elf
Before the city and Covid-19
labored to close the Hard Times,
it was hard to discern
who was unhoused
and who were the real denizens
of that West Bank institution.
Give Elf a sandwich at lunchtime,
see him rolling cigarettes that evening
at a table near the window
arguing with anyone about
whether or not Greg Ginn mattered.
Like any of us,
he might have been so many things.
he might have been a predator,
for as much as I could tell.
Nowadays his photo
adorns the wall of the dead,
not far from the painting
that Sally made of Gordy.
5. Wind Tunnel
In the days when Minnesota forbade liquor
stores from selling on Sundays,
the most chronic alcoholics
drank Listo..
Roll up on them in August
near the old VFW on Washington
or the train tracks over Broadway,
scent of mint and sick
while best friends play blind detective
to ascertain who punched who last night.
Hard livin’ on Sundays
and collecting cans for cash
for the old Jug Liquor store.
Before Scotty and Grandpa
had the deal with the junkyard owner
to stay in that camper,
the owner of the Jug
let Scotty spend the night
in the aisle.
Scotty was a juicer, but not a thief.
and the owner must have been a stand up guy.
Behind Stand Up Frank’s
in the alley next to the auto warehouse,
names etched in soft brick.
All that hard livin’, how many could be left?
That guy named John they called Kaw-liga
after the Native guy in the Hank Williams song?
My name is there, too.
6. Hello in the Camp
All of these now gone,
people who insisted on being people
before it was allowed,
when cops rolled camps to move you on
without hesitation.
In those days they left you
with the clothes on your back
and the Louis L’amour novel
in your back pocket.
This was back before
we ever considered
whether their services
were even necessary,
Before Jeff started manufacturing
hand-washing stations
Before the Park Board said
welcome
feel free
to use our grounds
to gather your dignity.
Before they doubled
back
and started rolling
folks
again.