When I was a kid, my favorite playground was the one on the corner of 174th St and Jerome Ave, sandwiched between the #4 train and Grand Concourse, with a busy exit/entrance to the Cross Bronx right along side. It was pretty standard for a city playground: two slides, some swings, a structure we could hang off of, and a padded area to run around in. Hmmm, actually it was kinda crappy. No monkey bars, no water fountain in the summer (there was one but I don’t think it was ever actually on) and no merry-go-round thingy. I know it musta been boring because I would get more thrills running outside it and hanging by the highway entrance, picking a car to chase for a minute down the ramp and then coming back up again to wait for another car. This I know cuz my Dad would warn me not to play by the highway cuz it wasn’t safe and a paliso would come my way if he caught me disobeying him. (Of course, I did catch a couple of beatins.) So that’s the playground of my little years. The one where I caught some of my first head stitches (different story for another day) and where I’ve set this poem in. The poem is a first draft so any commentary is appreciated.
Make Me A City
[Poem was here. Soon to be published in phat’itude Literary Magazine]