Walk in the neighborhood

I no longer walk in the neighborhood:
too much has been emptied on the streets,
cans and boxes, paper shreds, fallen leaves.

I worry that my neighbors
don’t look like me…

I am afraid there are clowns
inside the storm drains…

… and the sidewalks peter out
when I need them most…

…by the skatepark
most schooldays
the boys who swing there
are really men
with menace in the way
they stand on the swings
creaking the rusty chains
standing full height on the seats
eyes cast idly on the ground.

I can’t walk in the neighborhood now:
there are too many cars, too many trucks
creeping down side-streets.

No-one is here, except the hired help
brushing the yards.

No-one lives here in daylight;
they return at dusk, like starlings…

…and the lanes and alleyways
echo with their coming.

© BH, 2023

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Another American poem, written after walking the streets in Dallas. Different place, different dynamic. Everything, different.