Watchers of the Neighborhood

They’re not waiting for a train
Trains all lead to nowhere anyway
But they still stare into the blue—to find a safe escape
from underneath the crush of everyday

They count the cars, shift their hands inside their pockets
They’re counting stars that rise but always fall, or explode like rockets
They’re counting years they’ve only got a few
Watch another stagnant season sweeping through—heating up their block

They know what others say, police are circling by each day
As if to tell them they’re no good
Whatever happens, doesn’t matter, these kids will know
They are the eyes, and the ears, the watchers of the neighborhood

Where the shattered street sign sidewalk shifts to glass
I feel my nerves and muscles quicken when I pass
this corner hangout—this group is always here
Just some friends, taking shelter from the fear.

They don’t need to hear what others say—most people walk away
Carry fears of the dealers and the hoods
But these kids know what really happens on this road
They are the eyes, and the ears, the watchers of the neighborhood

Trains and cars will fade away with time
But sirens will return to try and claim them all for crimes
They’re finding something solid where they can
Squatters on the corner, for now this is their land

These streets trace circles of their lives—who knows where it starts
where the only ones who watch are there to watch it fall apart?
I am driving out of sight, but it does no good, I hear them call
I am the eyes, the ears, a watcher of the neighborhood.

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved