Here at Langdon and Lanark,
live the blacks and Latinos.
I see tough street dealers and gang members,
their faces always read the same:
“I have no future. I ain’t got nowhere else to go.”
The kids I know from school walk home
they have their own problems,
but they keep a smile on their face in front of their loyal friends.
I see the crazy man, who stands outside the red building,
listening to hip hop with a half burnt cigarette in his mouth.
I see good for nothing apartment building managers,
chasing their hyperactive children around their homes.
I look at the boy, who lives next door to me,
and his expression when he asks me
“Where you been?”
I always reply with a lonesome face,
“Nowhere.”
Everyone knows the look of fear on my face
every time I step out the front gate of my building,
because I know the risk I’m taking
and so does everyone else in the hood.
Here at Langdon and Lanark,
you never know what chaos you might run into.
Police cars circling the block,
suspicious and intimidating.
Mothers and fathers,
tired and wondering if they could ever leave this place.
Brotherhoods and sisterhoods are one of their tickets to survival.
My family and I are sticking together,
so one day we can leave this neighborhood,
The place where I inhale poison air everyday,
the place I call home with sorrow,
the place I surprisingly love.
Here at Langdon and Lanark.