This is where the
dream of suburbia has gone to
die. Once a mighty symbol of postwar economic strength, the promise of a slightly larger than inner-city yard. a house that has the exact same floor plan as your next
door neighbor but in a different shade of factory polluted pastel with a matching detached garage.
The pride of the city: a shopping center built in 1957 an early example of a strip mall, torn down.
It's A place where the parks are filled with alcoholics sheltering in the dugouts of neglected
baseball fields while surrounding themselves with the classiest of beverages: 40 ounce bottles of Old English 800, during school hours.
Where you can sleep soundly listening to the
gun shots of meth-head neighbors whom have let their longstanding feud boil over.
Where
police are too busy playing
music over their
car loudspeakers when watching street races vie for glory across the street in Detroit It's where at the local diner, a guy goes crazy after he finds out his
girlfriend whom waitresses there has cheated on him with a cook, shoots the diner up only to die by rear ending a farm combine forty miles away in Monroe. Where growing up, you learn to tell the difference between different types of junkies before the age of eleven. It's a place where an ex-bouncer at the local dance club escaped from the basement with holes drilled through his hands. Where just breathing , quadruples your cancer risk.
Lincoln Park may be the reason white
people are moving back to Detroit.
"Going to hit up my dealer today to buy
weed and some percocets, He's the
12 year old , smoking in that group across the street from the middle
school, only in Lincoln Park, Michigan"
