To get out, she has to go thru a tunnel.
Down, down, down. So many stairs,
tan walls crowding her movements.
Out the door, she will escape. In daylight,
nameless children rule the street. The street,
one side lined with cars, cracked sidewalks,
unhygenic grit, trash, and food wrappers,
and cat shit, and trash. The children are there,
their mothers are not. The children play on the sidewalks,
crossing the street. They stop her to ask if her dog
bites. Occasionally there are adults on the street;
they fight. The houses and apartments line
the street like teeth. There is a park, open,
grassy, unfenced, at the end of the street.
The children never make it there. They stay
in the dirt, they pick up the trash and throw it
against the cars, against the buildings. The city
is endless, but this fanged block is theirs.
So you think I can 
Good description of your street, and many other streets! So lovely to see you writing! 🙂
Thank you, Emily. That means a lot coming from you.
I did want to make a comment saying something about poetry and setting. When I was in college, I was praised for the places where my poetry met landscape. I think that this is something I have gotten away from, and this poem is the start of an attempt to rectify this. I think that one of the problems I’ve been having with writing is that I have lost my grounding.
We’ll see…