Haven Street

This kid's street's an asylum and his asylum cell's a prison,

because in kid-prison they’re fed poison

and are told it’s medication.

So her home is now a refuge for the hoody kids in the shelter,

but in the shelter she was held up

and stuck in the foundation.

So their hoodyland was a jungle in the tumble for survival,

but "with survival stems all madness, man,"

and not without temptation.

Now his open range is asphalt for the asphalt is a fruited plane,

whose fruit for skater boys was Speed

with songs of its salvation.

So their story was a signpost for the offspring of the unloved

who saw their kids get taken away

to face the state's starvation.
Now her story is a street and that street’s a twisted bend

but on it she was healed of hate

with talons of predation.

So his home is now on Haven and Haven's got its cracks

where the kid of smacks got Smack

doled out like radiation.

But his escape route lay on Mendon ‘cause on it all's forgiven,

where she found him in the parking lot

just sitting at the station. 

NEXT

--Poems from the Sprawl