Where I live

Where I live
is not
where I grew up

Where I live 
is green, is farms, is God

Where I lived 
back then
is not 
where I grew up either

Where I lived then
was green, was suburban, was nearly heaven

Those are the middle of the road times

Where I grew up 
was concrete, was steel, was the bowels of hell
Where I grew up
streets had edges
tenements spiked the sky
concrete fangs ready to swallow us whole

I learned
I learned to bargain
for nickels and dimes
from the brothers, all vying for my attention
ready to shuck and jive me when they got it

I learned to barter
for concerts and ballgames
with old white men, in red jackets,
I can make a little look like a lot
if I fan the ones      -     just so

I learned to smuggle
the alcohol into the stadiums
past aging bouncers with a paunch
explaining the gallon jug
of OJ in the brown bag
Vitamin C is good for my cold, ya know

I learned to lie
tell the city cops, I didn't know
I didn't know,
I was speeding
the light was red
that u-turn illegal

I learned about life
I met the poor, the destitute,
the desperate
it made me tough
hardened my edges
I learned to sleep on the street
beg change from strangers
I helped blind Annie navigate the sidewalks

I learned how much they are just like us

I learned to 
outwit the pistol wielding drunk at two am
ignore taunts hurled at me in Spanish 
walk tall and purposeful down almost empty city streets
hide the bruises

I got blood on my knees
cutting my teeth on those streets
it washed down the sewer
commingled with the soured piss,
stained the McDonald's coffee cup
which hugged the curb atop a pile of paper and sand

Where I lived then
I learned the Italian ways
the Catholic ways
the good children ways

I learned the power of prayer
as Mrs. Mac prayed for me daily

I learned lessons 
about life
about love gone south
of children gone sour
how a cheatin' heart can almost kill ya

I learned to feel
sorrow for the old, the poor, the helpless
joy for new life, green grass, small things
comfort and stability
I learned 
hatred deep enough to kill
to hate hatred
to hate intolerance
to hate myself

I learned to spill
      my insides
leave them gushing 
on the page
      for you
      to poke and prod
      and explore
with your greedy little fingers
afraid of exposing 
your own dirt and 
      raw ugliness
now that I've offered mine

I learned not to care
what you think

It's a long way 
from where I lived when I grew up
to where I live today

Where I live now
I am learning
to be a mother
to my son

By Andrea M. Young

Email: Andrea.Young@aaipharma.com