Lady Soweto
When I moved here
20 years ago,
I chose this neighborhood
Because I saw brown kids
Like my own,
Battling Pokémon cards
On sidewalks
Decorated with own chewing gum
stains,
Playing kick ball,
Swinging on rusty tires swings,
Open mouths like baby bird beaks
On rusted
Lead filled
neglected water fountains,
Eagerly awaiting
the release of
fire hydrants the fire department
Often deployed for summer fun.
The diversity, like a quilt of generations
That had no walls,
When I moved here,
around the corner,
There was a family,
With broken lawn chairs,
And a busted but working tv
Outside nestled..
Between two rat traps.
They were getting the electricity
From the city,
Cause their rents were raised 40%
I believe they had a toaster oven plugged in as well.
They would be huddled together,
Speaking in Portuguese.
The Haitian women would stand on porches,
Arms on hips ready for battle,
Thick calves covered in house dresses,
Watching out for anyone that messed with kin.
Vigilante elders on watch
24 hours,
Thinking of the ocean and the fresher meat
And healthier fruit
While staring at the pavement,
Questioning why they did the passage,
To to a country
That treats them like
Cardboard.
The corner stores bustled with
Mango ice pops,
Roasted plantains,
Beef patties with cheese,
And homemade booze produced in
buckets,
A minority based
Universal Trust act,
Between business owners
And clientele,
If you didn't have the money,
Or ran out of your AFCD
Or Food Stamps,
They would not deny your child
A slushy, or a candy bar,
Because of the honesty code,
You knew, on the first or the third of the month
Government checks released
And even the oldest member of the family with a walker
And cancer,
Would pay you back in full plus tip.
These were times when you would see
The veteran, with a prosthetic leg
Black man with hazel eyes,
Wash his car blasting Gil Scott Heron,
Trying to teach through music,
But the only focus was on the fact
That his prosthetic was white,
What an insult
To injury.
During this time every child
Belonged to this street,
Everyone watched everyone
If your kid fell of a bike
The women would descend like
Hawks with band aids.
Now,
Many moons later,
In a blink,
My sons saw all of their friends disappear,
And the fire hydrants of play in the summer
Were
Tightened and locked up.
Eviction notices spread faster than
Measles,
Landlords began to get burner phones
To instruct
Their army
Of nodding fentanyl addicts
To set their buildings alight.
Later,
On that burnt soil of before
Buildings were rebuilt,
Streets started getting paved,
Greenery and Hyacinthian bushes were
Planted to cover
History.
I sit on my stoop and a couple walks by smelling like prosecco,
And they sneer like I smell and don't belong.
The husband pushes her forward
Like I am a threat.
I went across to take out my neighbors trash
The new neighbors (Students)
said I was digging in their trash
For cans,
I was lucky, I knew the cop I tutored his kid
He shook his head
And he went to their porch
Ending their beer pong game,
And saw the
Splayed maybe roofied freshman women,
And the jaguar in the driveway
And said
“She will behave.”
Old man Roxbury we call him,
Because he was the neighborhood mayor of the hood
A mentor
Now sits on the porch
His home and former community center
Back in the day,
when…
When the fire hydrants were rusted,
Looks at his street
On Fort Hill
And his nurse for the first time
In 78 days hears him singing,
A crackle in the key of F..
“The troops keep marching on
Hoorah
Hoorah
The troops keep marching on,
An on..”
He is singing
to the line of UHAUL trucks ,
The moving vans,
The tsunami of gentrification,
And leans back
Closes his eyes
Last exhale.
And that's the end.
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