Parking In My Yard
for Nathalie & Ray

why strive, why struggle
to remain long in this world
in such a nasty place
with such nasty people

why not just get on the train
whenever it comes,
however early and be gone

why not keep a bag packed
be ready, willing, able
to relinquish ties, connections, contact
when the time comes, however soon

this is no place to take vacation
unless you’re a tourist
what is better in or about this Bahamas

unless unfortunate me happens to be
living on the city dump, the shitty dump
the garbage heap

is all of this Paradise
or you have to cross the bridge, the track

heart attack or an actual attack
in your own house, in your own yard

what you thought you owned, you don’t
unless you’re prepared to die to defend it

hoodlums wanting to intimidate you
out of your own skin
but haven’t they eyeballs, balls,
a dozen other vulnerable places
for life and light to leak out of, out through

within every thick skull, brains of jelly, of Jell-O
membrane between life and death
between here and now, is but a hair’s breadth

if a limb can break in a storm
what of who would kick against the pricks,
strike against or butt up against bricks

make a space, a place for me here
to be safe, to be happy in oh, God
until the work I’m called to do is done
let me not live, intimidated by
or afraid of any man


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
10:48 p.m. 06/10/07