Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

N The Hood

I am in the ghetto now,
looking out the window at the Hackberry trees
instead of my dogwoods.
Here, the occasional cardinal or squirrel that drifts into our yard
is a blessing,
an abnormality,
an odd-man out in a concrete world.
But I am not complaining.
I am happy to be out of West Meade
and the cloying neighborhood children
with their overpriced scooters and water guns.
Men driving Porsches trying to hold on to their youth,
and women getting lifted in places their husbands rarely see.
This world feels real.
Alive.
Cats run free
in search of birds,
or mice,
or anything they can find.
Dogs bark,
left out in the cold
to fend for themselves,
and the bass of the Bloods
drives past my street
on Saturday night.
Yes,
some good writing will come
out of here.