Inner-city Flexuosity

“Momma, can I have a…”
“I’m running late
Maybe tonight.”

“Daddy can we go to…”
“Maybe when I come visit this weekend.”

Daily door shut.
Daily silence.

“Charlie, can I hold you tight?”
Woof Woof, Woof Woof.

How goes it?
So goes it.
Video games before lunch.
Stickball around three.
Cartoons run into supper.
Bologna and spam on mayo spread toast.
Little Wonder Bread meatballs for Charlie.
Flip on the cop shows…solitary.

The day behind me.
Clocks tick.
Faucets drip.
Toilet keeps running.

Fire escape summer adventures.
NR rated neighborhood stories.
Red lights come on.
Spoke-wheels glitter through their turf.
Dudes sportin’ funny fur coats on hot summer nights.
Ice pick heels clickin’ city-slave songs.
Beer bottle hailstorms.
Shard-sparkling drifts in gutter’s once flowing.
Just another day.
Just another night.

Grandma saunters in,
Complains of 3-flight routine,
“Bannister’s loose,” she says.
“Careful, or gonna break a bone 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,
Treehouses and swimmin’ holes,
Wooded trails with Charlie off-leash,
Love void of rules,
Love without boundaries.

Then…
There’s love at its simplest.

“Can I have a hug, Grandma…
Can I?”