Haskell Street

In a working-class neighborhood full of
students lies a street with cars parked
along the side of its oft unheeded one way.
It is a street where pit bulls bark out
warnings and destitute cats croak sickened
pleas for food and love. Where neighbors
know each other by sight, not name, and
people upstairs rock so violently that our
own beds shake and we brace ourselves in
doorways. Where buses run their irregular
routes to bring us to our paychecks and
headaches. Where the word "community" is
posted on MISSING signs and the glow of the
city lights blankets the stars. You can't
see the city from here but you can hear the
soothing hum of outbound traffic floating
toward the porch.
Welcome to Haskell Street, this is where I
call home.