Inner City Make Do

“Momma, can I have a…”

“I’m running late.

Maybe tonight.”

“Daddy can we go to…”

“Maybe when I come visit this week-end.”

Daily door shut.

Daily silence.

“Charlie, can I hold you tight?”

Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof.

How goes summer?

So, goes summer.

Video games before lunch.

Stick ball around three.

Cartoons run into supper.

Bologna and Spam on mayo-spread toast.

Little Wonder Bread Spamballs for Charlie.

Flip on the cop shows…solitary.

The day behind me.

Clocks tick.

Faucets drip.

Toilet always running.

Time for…

Fire escape peep-hole adventures.

NR rated neighborhood stories.

Red lights come on.

Chrome-spoke-wheels glitter through their turf.

Dudes sportin’ funny fur coats on hot summer nights.

Ice pick heels clickin’ city-slave songs.

Beer bottle hail storms.

Shard-sparkling drifts in gutter’s once flowing.

Just another day.

Just another night.

Grandma trudges in.

Complains of 3-flight climbing routine.

“Bannister’s loose,” she says

“Careful, or gonna break your butt one day,” I says

“You makin’ fun,” she says

“No, grandma. Just thinkin’ sad thoughts.”

“C’mer, child,” she says.  “You okay?”

Grandma’s eyes are palm trees and sunsets,

Tree huts and swimmin’ holes,

Wooded trails with Charlie a-runnin’,

Love without rules.

Love without boundaries.

“Can I have a hug, Grandma? 

  Can I?”