Larry Boodry

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Drive-By

It is a neighborhood of
old men, and little girls
whose fathers sit with
capped golden smiles and
yesterday's whiskey still on
their breath, playing dominoes
on milk crates in the sun.

It is a neighborhood of
dark and shuttered storefronts,
where young men drink beer
in sullen, restless anger,
and watch scraps of paper
lifted from place to place
by the breeze.

It is a neighborhood of
street-fights and murals,
where mothers light candles
and pray for the children,
fearing fireworks lit together
might mean sirens
in the night.

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