Since a little girl walking down Mott Avenue
There’s been this little tree that always talked
to me
The little tree was actually quite tall
Born with the face of an alligator
He was wide enough for a seat, but usually
covered
Littered with pieces of glass bottles
But he was always Mr. Alligator Tree
To me

Even as a teen, I sometimes remembered to stop
Greet Mr. Alligator Tree, smile, wave, remember
He was a great part of my not-so-great childhood

Just last month, I made my usual route
Down Mott Avenue
And in that sacred place, Mr. Alligator Tree’s home
Was a giant pile of sawdust

And he was gone

They cut down my alligator tree, pulverized
his roots
They desecrated a piece of my childhood

And though I never got to say good-bye
Mr. Alligator Tree will always live on
His roots grow in my heart