I come from a fractured blacktop
scattered with butts, blunt guts and broken
butterfly jars.
I come from broke and broken families
where broken window theories clip wings early.
I come from No Child Left Behind and Just Say “No”
to three-for-tens and five-for-twenties,
ten-ten skinnys and one-twenty-five by fives.
I come from penny candies and two-for-a-dollar wings,
fifty-cent hugs and dollar dutches –
blocks where boys slapbox
while the girls double-dutch.
I come from humble homes where grandmothers
are saints and every kid’s got a father
they don’t know named John Doe.
I come from late nights looking for my mother
in the back-alley of a bar
peeking through the crack in the backdoor.
I come from where crack is king
where the crack of dawn brings crack
head neighbors to steal our newspaper.
I come from crockpot dinners that simmer
while our grandmother works
seven days a week with a weak
heart, gnarled hands and swollen feet.
I come from hunger –
from rumbling stomachs in the classroom
to cutting class and rumbling in the bathroom.
I come from redbrick rowhomes with glass ceilings,
smoke-stained walls and tear-stained sheets.
I come from big iced teas and big white tees,
dirty Dickies and dicked sneaks that talk while you walk.
I come from coupons and food stamps.
I come from group homes and boot camps.
I come from false prophets
who sold me money-green dreams
who never told me that God
is dead and life is hell.
I come from the otherside
where trying to survive is a waste of time – 
I come from the end of the line.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  Robert McCracken is a gifted poet, whose first submissions were a joy to read, and he has only gotten better over the years. I don’t know if we will hear from him again, as he will be starting a new life in the not too distant future. He has spent nearly a decade in isolation. I wish him the very best in all that he does.

Robert can be reached at:
Smart Communications/PADOC
Robert McCracken LG8344
Sci-Fayette
P.O. Box 33028
St. Petersburg, FL 33733