11 reasons why this is our home

Here, we all know the art of hanging, 

over porch railing, out of second-story windows,

calling to each other like seagulls 

across a vast sea. 

Lemme holla atcha for a secnd

How’s them babies?

Here, we peek out of closed blinds 

like the bars of our prison cell. 

Here, we put big tires on tiny cars 

so we remember how it feels to sit on a throne.  

Here, we pile into back seats 

like cargo in the belly of a ship. 

Here, children suck on ice cubes

on hot summer days, 

greasy scalps sizzling in the heat. 

Here, hair beads smacking against a little girls back 

sounds like a standing ovation 

as she runs into her daddy’s arms. 

Here, we bury our dreams deeper than

the cracks in our sidewalks. 

Here, our brothers and sisters sleep 

on cold park benches, 

wrapping themselves in the sorrows

of newspaper headlines. 

Here, saggy pants men waddle into corner stores 

for a six-pack to drown their demons. 

Here, we carry more guns than children 

then point them in the wrong direction. 

Here, we leave teddy bears for the dead, 

then look to the sky, hands up 

like we're holding a boombox 

and the whole block sings along.