Streets

On the street corner we stand with tools ready, waiting for the green light to switch to green. When we get our cue we rush into the street, bending between cars as windows instantaneously rise with hands waving feverishly tell us off.

Sometimes we get coins thrown out of car windows, sometimes we’re handed dollar bills, but for my brother and I today we get flipped the bird and a dust bath as cars speed away.

$1.25 clinks in my old denim jeans when I make the judgement we’ve seen enough angry faces and it’s time to call it quits. My little brother and I pack up our rags and offbrand window cleaner and head back to our alley; the one between the convenience store and old abandoned and boarded up homes. My sister lies on the street hidden by a dumpster and under her blankets, her face brightened with our presence and by the thought of a meal; today she’ll have a feast.

 

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