There is a dog barking,
over on Carvington Hill.
You know, the perfect neighborhood
where every person is problem free?
It’s booming but harmless barks echo over
the head of a little girl
who is crying in the corner
as all of her possessions are carted off
and her family is forced out of their home.
No problems.
The truck containing her precious toys
drives past a high school
where the seniors
are saying their last tear soaked goodbyes
and giggling about those guys
that they’re totes gonna marry next year.
Yet, just a hallway away,
that dark haired girl
-that-dark-haired-no-name-girl-,
who always gets good grades
is busy worrying about
how she will ever pay to get into college.
No problems
Meanwhile, across the street
in the middle school,
the girl’s sister and her friends
are bragging about their sex lives
and gossiping over who’s pregnant
with who’s kid
while a guy cries silently in the bathroom,
worrying about how he’s going to pay
for a child when he’s only in seventh grade.
No problems.
In a stall, 13.84 miles away from the boy,
is a married woman screaming for help
as her high school sweetheart
beats her for not making dinner on time.
No problems.
And as a little child, clutching her mothers hand,
says her last goodbyes,
she sees her dark haired neighbor, Alicia,
arriving home.
“Bye Miss Alicia” she waves, sadly.
“Oh, dear Kaitlin, it will be ok.”
Alicia bounds over to hug her.
The moment Alicia’s arms wrap around
the sobbing child,
a young boy wipes his tears away
and walks out of the bathroom to his bus.
“Good luck being a father, Dan!”
a teasing voice calls from the faceless crowd.
Out his bus window,
Dan sees his little brother’s best friend
embracing the sister of his pregnant girlfriend.
Another tear sprints down his cheek
but he quickly wipes it away.
A few houses down
Mrs. Manson runs sporadically
out her front door
followed closely by Mr. Manson
who is wielding a leather belt.
His bus turns the corner
and pulls up to the lovely house
on Carvington Hill.
No problems.
