For a long time, there is only one tree on our block. And though it still feelsstrange to be so far away from soft dirtbeneath bare feetthe ground is firm here and the one tree bloomswide enough to shade four buildings. The city is settling around me, my words come fast nowwhen I speak, the soft curl of the South on my tongueis near gone.Who are these city children? My grandmother laughs, her own voicesad and far away on the phone. But it is a long-distance callfrom Greenville to Brooklyn, too much moneyand not enough time to explainthat New York City is gray rockand quick-moving cars.That the traffic lights change fast and my sister musthold tight to my handas we cross to where a small man singingPiragua! Piragua!sells shaved ices from a white cart filled with bottles and bottles of fruit-flavored syrupcolored red and purple, orange and blue.That our mouths water in the hot sun as we hand him our quarters then wait patiently as he pours the syrup over the ice, hands it to usin paper conesWe'll be coming home soon, Grandmaeach of us promiseswe love youAnd when she says, I love you, toothe South so heavy in her mouthmy eyes fill up with the missing ofeverything and everyoneI've ever known
Halfway home #2
I selected this poem because I have been to a place far and nothing like home, and it feels weird not being near anything like home. I moved to Los Angeles for a while when I was younger. It was different like there were huge buildings and expensive cars and everything expensive. But I live in North Carolina and it is different. You barely see big buildings where I live. In Los Angeles, there would only be pavement and no dirt or cheap cars. When I was in LA it scared me because of all the loud noises and lots of construction. In Richfield we have a town with some fast food places and a food-lion, as LA had everything plus more.