A Single Street Not Unlike Any Other

On the outskirts of
Los Angeles
you can find this street.
It looks like
any other, but it is on this street
this street alone
that I, for lack of a better word
call "home".
I just sleep there,
if I must

If you think that
a man in the tough
streets of the city suffers,
come to this street
and witness a unique kind of hell
lives never lived, even partially
merely existed
acted
because nothing else
was written
in the handbook
of their lives

This street
taught me
depravity, betrayal, disgust,
in the form
of white fences
mowed lawns and
addiction, so long as it's behind closed doors

As a child I would wait
for my father
to drive down this street,
take me for the weekend
at every car light
my heart raced
my blood surged
excitement grew in me
only to be
disappointed
when the lights would
turn too early
bringing some other child
a father

Late at night
I would play hide and
seek with the
girl next door
anxious to find her
chase her
not realizing I was training myself
for life, for the game of
pursuit, catch and release
those are the rules
find them
they run
you chase
catch them and they wriggle
free
then, today, and if
you think I'm
wrong, tell me
but look me
in the eyes when you lie

Time and time
again, I stumbled back
onto this street
drunk, stoned
through that red front
door, under a rat-
infested roof
hoping my sister
didn't bring over a
guy to fuck
in the next room

The half-mile stretch
straight and true
ending in a bend
promising something
anything but these
9-5ers
accountants
housewives
policemen
real estate agents
money hounders
sycophants
murderers of the worst make
people with too much fear
and not enough imagination
or guts, to live

If I'm lucky
really lucky, some nights
I'll get to hear my
neighbor yelling at his son
wife sometimes too
the cops come
he gives them cigars
they laugh with him
the next day comes and
smiles, jovial fucking smiles
are slapped on their faces
while I stay awake in bed
thinking, secretly hoping,
I'll hear the undeniable
SMACK! of a fist
on flesh

I've seen the sun
rise, set on this
scabrous black asphalt
made love to
a few, and fucked a few
more behind that red
front door
the portal, gate between myself
and suburbia
every step outside
is another step closer
to death
to escape
further from this street
by the very
nature of this street

The funny part is
that I'll bitch
and moan
and blame the world
before I take responsibility
because I
get to lie on a couch, watch
television, and stuff
my face with beer, wine, and
everything else I need to
forget
day after day because
I am a
man of words, not actions