Thin line between Heaven an' Here.

--Bubbles





We would sit on the stoop one off the corner after school -
wasn't ours but when we were sittin' on it, and we took care to keep it.
There was a court across the street, and we'd watch the hoppers
playin' two-on to keep sharp after carrying the weekend.

Across the way was my Granma's; She kept us out of the worst of it.
Sat on her screen-porch with her newports and house slippers with one eye on us,
didn't matter where we was or what kinda shit we was gettin' in,
she got it. We kept her in mind: That woman could swing
a rolled up Reader's Digest like a bat, run you red with it.

The stoop was just out from under her, but we knew where she sat.
And she knew where we was, within runnin' distance if something caught
that we didn't want a piece of. She'd be standin' there, lookin' at them
gunnin' for us like we wasn't juveniles and fuckin' scared,
lookin' at them in that way that only no-bullshit Granma's can
that makes you wanna go to church. Made us men at twelve.

Now what the fuck.