Most of the streetlights have been broken for years now, but a few hang on, flickering every now and then
While we slept the clocks ticked a little bit too loud for our liking, the stairs creaked like little screams every time we made a step
Mornings were rather sullen, with the moon still out and Dad snoring in the room across from us
There was a fog, too, one characteristic to where we lived, that came no matter the season, and we had to squint or cut holes out of it to see the street in front of us
The school bus was very yellow and the windows were like aviators and we sat in the same seats day after day, chasing the scenes outside
We and our friends were poor, but we were alright, wearing the same jeans for three days in a row without anyone saying anything about it
Mom and Dad fought alot
We went outside when they did and didn't come home until after dark
We'd ride our bikes around the neighbourhood, see the older kids smoking under the bridge
We'd climb the old tree by the elementary school and throw dares
When the streetlights came on we started to go back
It wasn't like we were thinking about the fighting or the liquor bottles on the kitchen floor or anything, really
We just wanted to go home
And when we finally went to sleep after scrubbing the dirt from our feet, the broken streetlights went on a few hours later, and another day was happening

-cj