chrissteele

Detroit Ave.

The boom, roar clatter of the automobiles
The click, clack banging of the prostitutes heels
In the hallway

The click, clack chatter of gossip-hungry mouths
The screaming and the yelling of spacy gone-to-hell children
The shouting and the laughter, the grieving and the sobbing,
the fighting and the running of drunks and mad men and women

And I'm alright
On Detroit Ave.

The screaming and the crying of the sirens
Murder, fire and heartaches
The click, clack banging of the prostitute's heels
And I'm alright
On Detroit Ave.

But there are times when it sounds like love

The gossips are satisfied
The madwomen and men and the drunks are gratified
The children are mollified
No one's been murdered
And hell's not on fire
And walkin' down the street
There's a whisper in my heart
I get back home and Sheri, the hooker, smiles at me
She really likes me
On Detroit Ave.

The click, clack chatter of gossip-hungry mouths
The screaming and the yelling of spacy gone-to-hell children
The shouting and the laughter, the grieving and the sobbing,
the fighting and the running of drunks and mad women and men
The screamng and the crying of the sirens
Murder, fire and heartaches

The click, clack banging of the prostitute's heels
In the hallway
And I'm alright
On Detroit Ave.

Note: This poem was written when I was living on Detroit Ave.
in Cleveland. I live on Detroit Ave. in Lakewood, a suburb of Cleveland now.

Copyright Christopher Steele Brower