I roamed as free as
the wild green parrots
and the grandiose peacocks
all up and down
the darkest street
in San Pedro.

Our yard was without
boundaries and full of the buried
treasures of the past.
I'd spend summer days
digging in patched
kneed jeans.
Pulling from the dirt
old time cork top bottles
that once held
***** laced syrups and
other types of liquid joy.

When another ones life needed
saving the red flashing  lights
of fury lit the darkness with faint
hues of shifting reds as the
chariot of death sped past our
grand window.

The pill box shaped hospital sat
atop the hill like a morbid
kings Gothic castle.
Always overlooking
the lightless way.

Memories of our golden *****
running proudly across the canyon ,
a ***** white free roaming
hen still flapping
between her saliva,blood soaked
jaws.

Or the back street rushing
with brown garbage laden
runoff as the heavens opened
and cried rain upon the earth.

I didn't stand a chance up against
the pull of the *******
the dragon and all the
crimes and times away
it brought with it.

I laughed and fought along
side the ****** ones
and became apart of
something more than me.

I learned the true meaning
of the number 13
and earned the right to tattoo it
on my young body like the
true symbol of valor  
it is.

Life on the darkest street
in San Pedro
where the fall leaves of the
Eucalyptus
and the fruit trees burned
lasting colors of
yellow ,orange and red.

Those early years on the darkest
street in San Pedro
where my young mind took in
all the bad it could.

Coming of age on the
darkest street in San Pedro
with most of whom who are
long since dead.

My young life so long ago
on the darkest street in
San Pedro
brings about some of the
brightest memories
I have today.