A yellow ticket on my door informed me about the carnival across the road on Sunday,
And suddenly the big white graffitied trucks arrived to set up child’s play.

As the makeshift gates and portable blue restrooms were being secured,
my neighborhood started looking toured.

Families began ride seeking,
and children began to go on loops screaming.

Kasper and I waited in line to buy tickets,
and it was so foreign I felt like a tourist on a visit.

The bounce house was placed on the same paved cement since I moved here,
but I struggled to recall the times my friends and I gathered there.

I took a seat to map out where to go next,
but I could not revel in this place that is now complex.

Maybe the change is good,
but maybe it’s not meant for this hood.

All I know is that this place I roam,
used to be called my home.