Driving through
the old neighborhood
Crisp autumn leaves
litter the cracked sidewalks
that seem to
hold their breath
weeds stick out
like hands grasping for life
young people
stand on sidewalks
looking for jobs
waiting
wondering
I sit in the car seat
the seatbelt is too tight
strangling my every move
my breath is cut short
as I cough and
yank it off my neck
this just adds
to the feeling
that washes over me
like huge waves
that show no mercy
As we get closer to the tunnel
I feel it again
I want to grasp something
grapple onto something
from my old life
Remember and hold something
that I can retrieve
from the deep chambers
of my brain and heart
this is my home
brooklyn