The Best Seat On The Block

Poetry

Cashapp: $Cheesiepeesie

https://gofund.me/d756b1689

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:04

Late afternoon finds me right where I belong, sitting out on my front, toes hanging out, long forgot about the slippers, sun shining bright like it woke up with something to say today. And me I'm listening. Everybody's out, even the wall huggers done returned, sliding along the buildings, hugging the brick like old habits. They never quite shake. Traffic rolling by steady, one car after another, like the street itself has a heartbeat. The corner store, busy as ever, door swinging open, door swinging shut, people stepping in, stepping out, bags rustling, voices floating into the afternoon air. Down the way our washman is working hard again. Water splashing, rag spinning, making sure them cars leave shining like they brand new. That man don't miss a spot. Sun hitting them hoods so bright you got a squint just to look. And me I'm just sitting here doing what I always do when I take my seat outside, minding my business, watching the rhythm of the block, neighbors walking, dogs barking, engines humming low, and then there's that four way stop. Now that right there, that's a show all by itself. Folks pulling up confused, some stopping too long, some not stopping at all, some waving people through like they the mayor of traffic. Don't nobody really know who's supposed to go first, but everybody pretending they do. And I just sit back, toes still hanging free in the sun, watching the whole neighborhood move like a living story, playing out right in front of me. No rush, no interference, just life passing by, and from this front porch seat I see it clear as day. Sometimes the best way to understand the world is to sit still long enough to watch it move.