Nail My Feet Down to the Southside of Town

Drunk with the dew, dumb with the weight,

We watched the towers fall through film and dust.

The stores sold out of flags, brave children pushing in line

To prove the love of a father who would prove to give them up.

Now we’re down at the fountain, and there’s war in the skies,

And we’re calling down the Peace of The Lord,

I lean into the idling truck. It smells like burnt oil and cologne.

He drones: “I killed a bunch in the last one. Can’t wait to kill more.”

Bathed in the sweetness of cut grass, speckled with red clay and defeat,

We drain cans of purple nectar, cleats clicking on the sidewalk.

We, soft boys from the leafy mountain, shadow the cut-up sons

Of the concrete valley, who spit and cuss and revelate like men as they talk.

Will the cop-calling colonists hear the ghostmen talking about that All-Star game?

The sneers and slurs from the visitors’ dugout. At the raggedy shoes Darius had on.

At Beau’s gentle air. At Sameer’s daddy’s accent. The way Ricky tore off after them.

Bat crossed behind scarlet neck: “Man, you got to show out for your own.”

Nail my feet down to the Southside of town.

Bend my back into it: the 24th Street viaduct.

Watch my hair grow long and tangle up

In the smoke still rising from the stacks.

Encase my tongue in steel,

In case I ever dare to say,

“I’m stuck.”

Shrouded in black, suckling on cigarettes,

Crammed into our girlfriends’ hand-me-down jeans.

Our arms are crossed, heads nodding to every song,

Like we already know, or just don’t care, what it means.

And, at his post on the corner, John: thick matted beard and torn heavy coat,

His face contorted by voices. The wounded dudes are all cracking up.

I fall quiet and watch him silently read off the transmissions,

The last shouts of children falling through the fading Southtown summer dusk.

Nail my feet down to the Southside of town.

Bend my back into it: the 24th Street viaduct.

Watch my hair grow long and tangle up

In the smoke still rising from the stacks.

Encase my tongue in steel,

In case I ever dare to say,

“I’m stuck.”