Nothing has changed in my neighborhood
by Ron Kipling Williams
I still must travel two buses to purchase whole foods
because Whole Markets refuse to locate to my neighborhood
Four wings and fries does not a happy meal make
quick food is a quick way to the grave
we need fresh food bodegas to curb fast food slavery
Rats rampant running alleys and streets fat and slick
and collecting refuse from missed garbage pick-up days
darting in between vacant crevices in homes abandoned by
old Floridians retired from fleecing the natives
Slumlords renting humans to live in closet box quarters
across from homeowners who receive requests
to sell their investments
I look through missing windows and witness the sky
projecting through gaping broken holes in roofs and trees
growing through them
Broken sliding marble steps next to bowed brick and mortar
and 20-year-old paint giving way to crack stoned foundations
Squatters have the right to remain silent
and if the building collapses
just roll out the black body bags
the insurance will pay for it
I walk past addicts high flying
in front of rehab centers
and around the corner
their suppliers have come out with new samples
and the herd comes running to grab them
Welcome to my neighborhood
where the conditions are the constant
I have the citizen app
which pings my phone when a citizen is shot/
word of mouth on my block is now a secondary source
But there is no app for stopping the shootings
I round the corner where young black men
operate their street stream of income
we give each other the head nod
and I greet them with peace brothers
because my spirit trusts them that we can have
a moment of peace together because
although they are immersed in war
they recognize a peaceful brother
and that moment is as much for them
as it is for me because peace on the streets
is a scarce commodity
There is no peace in my neighborhood
only long protracted cease fires
I sweep our block
and neighbors take moments of silence
to feel that someone cares about their eyes
craving cleanliness for a change
they have been asking for
but never getting
And for you in the suit on the stage
stop asking my neighbors the same questions
it is an insult
just get your ass of that town hall meeting chair
and fix the problems
we don’t need one more of you telling citizens
what they already know
even with a microphone in their hand
you still can’t hear them
I pass the same mattress and piles of trash
to go to the bus bench on the bus stop
that I had to call the city to get replaced
because vandalism is a cry for help
but the old bones that have walked for miles
over generations cannot help now
they need rest/ so stop
breaking up their bus bench
I hear another car wreck at the intersection
and I call again to get those speed bumps
but the bump at city services slows the process
down to a halt/I wonder
if it takes a body coming to a dead halt
for the speed bump to finally intersect
the speeding cars?
There is nothing new under the sun
that bakes the broken potholed asphalt cracking
axles and popping tires
and jarring the backs of the disabled
riding on mobility buses with no
shock absorbers/too cheap to give them smooth
rides/if they get to their destination
on time/the dispatch office doesn’t
give a damn about disabled people/they
hit the mute button on the mainline
while they drink and smoke and sex
in the bathroom
What? The citizens doth protest too much, you think?
Against my basement wall are wrinkled and faded
protest signs from decades ago/my throat needs
soothing from the years of vocal chord straining
confronting the powers that be on the issues
my feet wore out too many pairs of shoes
Meanwhile absentee representatives receive awards
for being present in their districts/if I saw them
in my neighborhood you did/only during election time
did I receive a phone call if I need anything/I
don’t take the transaction bait/what have they done
for us lately?
Nothing has changed in my neighborhood
but armchair quarterbacks have the audacity
to call the next generation lost
when they are the ones who lost them
and now this next generation has to generate change
with no toolbox
so now they are 3D printing their own tools
and remaking this world in their image
Mural : The Clap Clap Parade, Jessie Unterhalter & Katey Truhn,
2014. 1400 Warner St, Baltimore, MD 21230.
