We fled the City – but we’re still Scared
of our old Neighborhood
my Mother prays a lot – out Loud –
I’ve got my own Bedroom
My Brother looks – a lot like me –
my Sister – not so Much
my Father? Oh – I can’t recall –
his Life – a loaded Gun
The light Rail – yes – it cuts both Ways –
the Planners sold but One:
the Banker to his Office – not
my old Gang to our front Door
Like Bluebirds – in – an old Cartoon
who’re hanging out – the Wash –
we pinch the Sheet – at each Corner
and – we cover – up – my Face
No comments:
Post a Comment