INSPIRED BY AUNTIE CAROL’S Lyric Wise
In my front yard I might hear the children swearing while bike and car tires screech loud enough to blow eardrums. In my back yard I might hear heavy footsteps ending the life of numerous insects, tearing apart the limbs of twigs and allowing their sneakers to play bumper cars with tin cans. What are they running for? Where are those cars going? Is there anyone asking these questions? is one that floats upon my mind as I lay in my Section 8 house listen to my mom rant about high rent. Broken sidewalks match our broken soles. So who’s to say we're not home? Or is it that we’re not home completely? Is it because home is where the heart is? Or is it because our unconscious mind longs for all of the desirables. In my front yard I see boys play curb ball. But we all know mommas come out curiously searching like baby turtles after they hatch. Unaware of what the world has waiting for them, only aware of the HARSHNESS it bestows.
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