pool

My Street

Text: My Street

from AlexandraTheGreat, 25.08.08

Text

20 years on, I lug my suitcases up those friendly steps,
and it smells unfamiliar, my mother’s house.
There’s a sinking feeling that I try to avoid,
And the smiling weekend papers laugh at my dread.

The street is a minefield (I’m surprised I care)
That square-headed kid from number 14:
It stabs me in the heart that she barks at her boys,
Impossibly grey, with her iPhone and frown.

Number 20, perennially pissed,
But still smiling, the next generation
Of overgrown lawn, AC/DC on loud,
And mutt whingeing in the yard, needing a walk.

We’re the wogs, self-appointed distributors of food,
And mum’s home-made biscuits still travel the street,
I hate that she's a stereotype, smiling, pushing treats
I suspect they don't eat them, those weary receivers.

As the reluctant child delivery service,
i didn't know to be offended by the Anglo view:
"You can't refuse food from those people, you know!"
And I betray her, I keep their secret just in case.

I grip my grown-up-ness, my hard-earned free will,
Will her command send me reeling back, through the years,
And undo me? City-wise, girl-woman finesse?
Goodbye soy and linseed, hello Wonder White.

Mum my heart is with you, your love cuts through my chagrin
I owe you, more than I can comprehend, I’m sure.
I’m here to pay back, what i can, what I can't.
I serve you as you served me. Send me to the shops.

Tags

Alert Moderator

[Alert Moderator]

Comments

3 comments

Add Comment