In My Hood

A typical day in my neighborhood is always noisy and there are plenty people outside. If you look around kids are running. Little girls are playing jump rope, or little boys playing football in the bright green grass. There are pregnant women, drug dealers, and security guards. On Sundays and holidays there is the smell of fried chicken from someone cooking with the door open. Sometimes when the maintenance men haven’t picked up the trash the scent of rotten food, or dirty diapers fills the air. I can feel the hard cement, as I sit on the porch being nosey. Trying to see who getting locked up or who just got to fighting.

I have the taste of smoke in my mouth from walking through the breezeway where all the drug dealers are smoking Newports.
In my neighborhood I can see women on the porch braiding hair and I can smell the scent of the oil sheen as they do the hair. I might see a bird or two and a few stray cats. When I look at the buildings I can tell they been there for over 20 years, because the bricks are discolored. There are flowers and honeysuckle trees, I can smell the honey on the trees and hear the bees buzzing round the trees. I can taste the bitter taste of the honeysuckle after I have sucked out all the honey. There is always the sound of sirens from the police, ambulance, or fire station. In my building I can hear the dice hitting up against the porch as the boys shoot dice. On the weekends I can hear someone playing Dro or Young joc.

I can smell an almost taste the barbecue from someone cooking out. When there is a big game I can hear Georgia fans across the street tailgating or I can smell the beer that has been wasted on the sidewalk.
In my neighborhood I can hear old women gossiping the shouting of the boys is in my ear as I walk by trying my best to ignore them. I can taste the crunch bar as I walk from the candy man’s house. The shouting of the boys is in my ear as I walk by trying my best to ignore them. I can hear the sound of loud music as cars ride through; the rims are so shiny they can burn your eyes. My feet are burning from walking outside on the hot pavement with no shoes on, and my mouth is cold from the ice cream I just bought from the ice cream truck. Sometimes my mouth is hot because of the hot wings; I can taste the salt and ranch dressing.

In my neighborhood I can see junkies walking up and down the street, the musty smell on their clothes from not bathing enters my nose and makes me feel sick. I see the faded, wrinkle green money that the jay gives to the drug dealer for a rock. At the first of the month I see a lot of people at the mailboxes waiting for the mailman to come so they can get their check.
As nightfall it gets more loud, everybody get fresh for the club. I see stilettos, girls with little skirts, boys with Girbaud pants and fresh Air Force Ones. I hear the dope boy’s cell phones ringing. When I walk to the parking lot I hear boys and girls conversing about what they go do when they get to the club.

I see all the pretty cars on 22’s sitting there with the doors open and music blasting. I see the blue police officer’s uniform as he gets out the car and write the young men a ticket for loud music after curfew. As I get ready to walk in the house my neighbor screams" get out!" to her drug-dealing son who is always giving her trouble. Before I get in the house I smell food and I see the neighborhood cat laying in the doorway meowing for food. My mom yells "shut the door, we don’t have no food for that flea cat. After I have showered I lay down on my soft covers and pray for a better tomorrow.