would scrub the marble porch
with a hard
brush
every morning in the low
sun over
the city, stacked with
row houses in south
philly.
the whole neighborhood
was spotless.
everyone had five kids
or more.
grandmothers, families,
the street
was italian.
the market. the schools,
the catholic churches.
you could smell the food.
hear the music.
see the men playing cards,
bocci ball.
gambling in the alley,
big shots
with Cadillacs,
the ice men pushing
carts. the junk man
with his scraps.
the widows in black.
someone was always dying or
dead
and food
was being prepared to send
them home again.
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