THE NEIGHBORHOOD

discovered

 They call my neighborhood Silver Lake.

 Nature comprised of my neighbor’s pear tree

 And wild life consisted of my black lab, Shadow,

 Or Dog-at-Large, according to the cops. 

 Hopscotch was chalked on the sidewalk in pink and blue. 

 Morning glories graced our fences

And cicadas forecasted a hot day.

 

No one told us stories.

No one imparted wisdom.

No one watched us.

 

We sat on the stoop and watched people walk by

Or drive by in their long cars and loud music.

They became familiar faces.

 

The wa-wa man scared us to death.

That was all that he could say.

And he said it loud; wa wa wa wa wa

We were like cockroaches

When you turned the lights on

Whenever he came around.

 

There was that head-shaven man with huge ears

Wearing army fatigues, drinking coffee

On the church steps with his

Transistor radio blasting news

As he read the papers

At ten a.m. every morning.

He did not speak.

 

There were the poker games in the Laundromat

After hours where my dad would play.

He didn’t talk about those.

They asked him to join their club

But my father said no because

He knew he could never get out.

 

There was this ringer for Elvis Presley

Who drove around

 In a 1962 white cadillac

Blaring Elvis on his radio

We know every one of his songs now.

 

The church bell tolled nine times

It was time to go inside

But me and Shadow stayed on the stoop

Until my father came out and chased us inside

Where I watched The Graduate with my mother.

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

This is exceptional!...I place myself in certain lines and give both a giggle and a shudder. I would like to continued reading you. Your expression is so clear. Thank you for sharing with us.

[Sami Khalil]

Enjoyable, well versed. Thank you for posting...:)......................

[Matthew BS]

The characters in this poem are really strong and nostalgic. There is something Midwestern about the language and images in this poem, a bleak reality that simply is present somewhere where few people can find it. The settings were described beautifully, the church steps and poker game being my favorite moments. You are a very talented poet so keep writing!

[m.s.early]

I love this reminiscent quality you express. It conveys to me an opinionless child that is simply a part of its world. There are no good or bad parts of life, there are only parts of life. A child has the blessed ability to accept things quickly because maturity has not presented him with experiences that result in evaluating the moral or pleasantness of situations.

There are bald men with big ears in a life. They are not necessarily good or bad, just bald and big eared. There are fearful events, but here they appear to not be enough for obsessive contemplation, but rather an event that simply passes into the next verse.

There are routines we become accustomed to until they are memorized and we know them line by line. Somethings are memorized due to exposure not emotional investment.

At the end of the day a child and his dog linger. Perhaps not to ponder on the day (for the day is a day in itself), but rather to stare off into the world and see it for what it is, not what they would have it to be.

[Mia Sparrow]

i gleaned so much insight by your keen review. i didn't realize what lay lurking between the lines. it's true that the child is opinionless and to him the world is just the way it is. it wasn't until later on in life that he realizes that no one passed on stories because none of the characters could talk and were unable to tell him about things in other times and circumstances that might have resulted in an emotional investment.
thank you taking note of the quotidian in the child's life and for letting me see it from another point of view.

[m.s.early]

All of your poetry is remarkably interpretative. It lends itself to read this way and that way. I'm sure you'll have as many insights as you do readers. Please continue to post your work. It is wonderful reading.