Notebook page

I used to wander in the slums
I’d hear the tales of prostitutes and bums
Elvis sang and Susie smiled
“Washburn Ave. is no place for a child.”
“Who do you belong to child?”
I’d just walk and watch my feet
Jump the cracks and wonder who I’d meet
Sometimes I’d sit against the wall
When ringing shots would echo with their call
You stay out of the way because you’re small.
Some nights I would watch the fights
Below the bridge by fifty-gallon lights
And if the kid shouts got too loud
I’d melt into the homeless crowd
Cause more than one’s lost blood for being proud.

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