**Thanks for the title Amy hon...This is for you.

I walked the streets tonight.
Tracing bro.ken sidewalk [memories]
In bare feet and broken glass
Telling the stories of our lives
In [sc.arred] feet and dirty faces.

At night we fell asleep to a .s c r e a m i n g. serenade of sirens
You always hoped they weren't for your house
.Always.
Days spend in gravel parks,
[or St. Joe Catholic ele., to those who called it for what it was.]
Those days you swung so hard
Trying to fly away [with] memories,
Some good, Some bad.
[or till you thought you would fall off the swing]

We lived our lives off of PB&J and sun sweet water straight from the hose
[.always tasted better that way.]

When dark crawled around
And the Walls of SJC, and colored gang sings
[Separating .life. and .d.e.a.t.h. in simple colors of .b/l/u/e. a n d .red.]
Were covered for another night's struggle
We carried our shoes
[if there were any to be had]
Walked on home
Some to parents and bowls of Ramen noodles and ravioli
[straight off the stove from the can]
Some walked, hoping they still had a home to go to.

The nights were cold
[The people were colder]
Money was tight
And parents often screamed
At each other,
[At us]
But it was home.

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