Round This Block

Copyright 2007 Clayton Kinnelon Greiman

Boy, I see you walking

round this block,

your pants all tight,

your hair slicked back,

strutting like a peacock,

grinning like you're the only

flavor in this worn out town. 

But let me tell you, boy,

I been here before you,

smiling all smug when

a man looked my way,

then inviting him in to this

place you're passing by.

I'd wear a bell, so they'd

all know I was comin';

their faces lit like kids

running for the ice cream truck,

their lips salivating for a flavor

they ain't never tried before. 

I walked round this block

like I owned it,

when all I was was a

poor bit of white trash

with a loose zipper

who had never been shown

no love.

Then, what I thought

was love,

lights turned down,

no words spoken,

groping without feeling,

turned out to be a

way of letting the

tomcats have their cream

while I went to bed hungry.

I had set the bowl out,

and they all had come running

not for reason that I was

anything special,

more so because I 

was laid before them,

free for the taking.   

But I thought I was

something special; yes,

I thought I was the belle

of the ball, until I noticed

windows on this block

were being boarded up,

the lights turned off,

and preachers comin'

round to offer condolences. 

I went from waltzing in red

to weeping in black,

as boys I had called friends

never came round no more,

their families auctioning

off their possessions

in back alleys out of

shame for what they were

and how they had left

this world. 

So I went inside, and I slid

the bolt across the door,

but the walking never ceased;

it was taken up by others

who had never seen

a boarded window

or heard the joyless silence

of a vacated apartment

across the hall. 

Tonight, boy, I see you walking,

so, I think I'll ask you in and

I'll tell the story of a young man

who once walked this street,

and who was damn lucky

to have made it back inside

before his windows

were boarded up

and his dignity and life

left on the curb

of that block he had

walked round one

too many times.