I lived on a street
With a crack house
It was not the first
It was not the last
Cars came and went all day
I was five
They were three houses away
There was a drive-by
One summer evening
We lived there only a month or two
I understood what the sounds were
I didn’t think if people were hurt
The family went back to
Watching a movie but this time
We shut the front door
The next crack house was
Down the street almost
A block away from us
Crackheads and crack whores
Walked the streets at night
I walked to grade school
Every day in these neighborhoods
I thought this was normal life
I didn’t know life was different
For literally everyone else
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
James Pack 