If I Were to Walk Around the City at Night

By Isaac Morales

Would there be anyone to tell me to go home?
if I walked outside my house down East King St.
I would make a left on Eucalyptus and walk
past Casey Elementary, where
I spent kinder to fifth, where I pushed
Francisco off the swings, where I
ran across the grass field holding Esmeralda’s hand,
where I spit on the blacktop and Mrs. Chapman
made me pick up the saliva and put it in
the bathroom sink.
if I kept north to Foothill,
made a right, and head towards Meridian,
I would see the Wigwam motel on route 66,
a few blocks from the borderline
of Rialto and San Bernardino,
where my aunt
would go with her ex-boyfriend to buy meth.
if I went there I’d probably run into
her drug dealer
and if he asked me if I was looking to buy
I would say, “no, just walking home.”
I would walk past Etiwanda, Victoria, and Sixth,
then Steven’s house,
technically in San Bernardino but remains
a whole other place.
Deep in San Bernardino, past Meridian,
where the old Long John Silver’s used to be
where an old middle school friend was shot.
if I were to walk past Meridian and enter
San Bernardino I’m sure things would feel
less safe.
unable to distinguish fireworks
from gunshots.
as I walk back south on Acacia,
I pass the intersection where Alondra was
hit by two brothers racing—
there’s a shrine for the brother who died,
there’s a candle knocked over.
if I were to walk this city at night, I hope
someone
would tell me
to run away.