There’s an apartment on the corner,

Graffiti on the cement

The gate is weak and leaning towards the dead grass.

An eye-roll for those who worry about the beauty of the neighborhood


A mom lives there.

With a contorted heart

She threw herself to the soil

so she can hold hands with her little boy.

She looks from the window.


Small balloons on the sidewalk.

Disney Characters smiling at me.

They don’t belong here.

They float on a string tied around a candle.

A white Jesus with his hands outstretched.

He doesn’t belong here, either.


A black boys picture hidden between the small teddy bears

holding satin hearts.

Every time I drive by I look out the corner of my eye

Trying to ignore it.

Like everyone else.

Like everything else.

I don’t belong here.

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I am what I write. Right or wrong.