In My Neighborhood

In my neighborhood,

We chain our outdoor benches to trees to avoid theft.

Anything that is not bolted down is fair game.

We maintain a certain level of trash in our yard at all times to not appear rich.

This gives the illusion that we don't have anything good to steal.

Which is not far from the truth.

When the street lights come on,

We scream our children's names to get them to come home.

They are not allowed to travel more than two blocks away,

Which is the farthest they can hear our yell from.

In my neighborhood,

We use the stove to heat our homes in the winter.

We gather around it as if it was a campfire.

Only we are too poor to afford marshmallows.

We use bread bags inside our children's boots so their feet won't get wet.

Winter boots last one winter only,

Then they must be discarded or handed down to a friend or family member.

The ugly blue ice cream truck circles my block of rental houses divided into apartments each summer.

It causes children to beg money from strangers for colorful ice cream on a stick.

The police block us in at night.

Like they are tucking us into bed,

While they bust our neighbor for drugs.

This is their version of keeping the neighborhood safe.

While domestic assaults take place 3 blocks over and 2 houses down,

That go unreported.

In my neighborhood,

Opossums, skunks, and raccoons roam the night streets freely.

Seeing these animals dig through trash is the norm.

Raccoons become known as trash pandas.

Skunks can easily be mistaken for black and white cats and be fed by accident.

The squirrels are fat and not afraid of people.

They eat cracked peanuts out of my hand.

I am impressed by their giant bushy tails and tiny hands.

We put old furniture outside to use on the porch.

Sofa's with ripped cushions are our favorite.

In my neighborhood,

We have drinks on the porch with friends.

Porch parties are popular every weekend in the summer.

We talk about the struggles of life,

Along with everything and anything.

This is our calm in a world that never stops moving.

Car accidents make the power go out on city block L, M, N, and P.

City block O is lucky this time around.

The wreck sounds like a bomb going off.

It's much louder than a gunshot.

A drunk driver misjudges a turn and hits a telephone pole head-on.

It's 2 in the afternoon.

Cool June nights with scattered rain showers and high humidity.

I bring indoor candles outside to my drinking porch and take in the sounds and the people around me.

*This poem is featured in "Peeling Sanity" Due for release in October 2018. Be sure to check out my other poetry collections on Amazon.

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