History was rich here, but little survives

Each day another carpetbagger arrives

The Onion is empty; Jimmy’s forced to close

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Humility is dead; entitlement thumbs its nose

Tranquility fled to some faraway place

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Traffic congestion is the town’s big disgrace

Mom and Pop stores struggle to make it

Landlord greed just wants to take it

No one can find a place to live

Unless they’ve got a fortune to give

Workers must sleep in a distant county

Hit and run kids have dad pay the bounty

There’s no more fun at the Crystal Palace

Just naked steel and mounting malice

The plaza has a statue of Friedl Pfeifer

But he’s only known if you’re a local lifer

And who were Walter and Darcy and Fred?

Who cares? Who cares? They’re forgotten and dead

The Isis is in crisis; the gas stations went away

But we got a new chain store — hooray, hooray

Dinner in town is $500 for two (if you’re smart)

It comes with COVID, seated two feet apart

But the snow is the best in 43 years

Though goggles ice up with memory’s tears

Oh, what the hell, summer’s even worse

Success is irony dressed up as a curse

Welcome to the town of last goodbyes

Where history is rich, but character dies

I’m lucky to have arrived in Aspen in ‘55

And be young enough my memories survive

Of dirt streets, Tom’s Market, and Sinclair gas

No stoplights, no curbs, an unpaved Independence Pass

Of Küster and Guido and Bil with one “L”

The Times once a week the kids scurried to sell

What’ll be next to pack up and go?

Farewell, dear Aspen, we loved you so

Greg Lewis

Snowmass Village