Downtown

We went to school downtown. We knew how to survive. We knew what streets to run down and which ones to treat like a plague. We knew never to carry anything in the open and never to just wander.

I’ve seen enough girls pull their jackets tighter around them. I’ve seen enough boys take their hoods off as they slosh through the rain. I’ve seen enough kids crying in the corner of the bathroom. I’ve seen enough kids writing on the the backs of their hands. I’ve seen enough kids washing the ink off their hands with their tears. I’ve seen enough kids writing their apologies in blood. I’ve seen enough kids that realized that the shouting was directed at them one second too late. I’ve seen enough kids cut their wrists. I’ve seen enough kids cut their wrists. I’ve seen enough kids…

We went to school downtown. We learned what it was like to survive. We learned how easy it is to forget how hard it is. We learned… How fast our eyes can move when we’re looking for danger. We learned, exactly how many seconds until the light changes. We know how long we can stand on a street corner before we become the target. We learned what building to pick up the pace in front of. We learned more from those streets than we did from our school. We learned more from the mud stained streets than we did from the tear stained textbooks.
Our teachers asks us why we’re so tired and we can’t bring ourselves to tell them about the nightmares. We can’t define dismay because we’re too afraid of the walk home.

We went to school downtown and we learned more from the puddles and streetlight than we ever will from algebra class. We learned from the tick of the timer on the crosswalk. We learned from the smell of cigarette smoke in the air. We didn’t need spanish class when we constantly had to pretend like we didn’t speak English.

We went to school downtown. And our education zoomed by like the car that ran the red light. Like the car that killed our best friends. Like the car that said…

“Run”