View From My Porch

Night’s Presence

1 am: a four-door car driving up the hill on Fourth, from Maria, across Bates and Maple; a full sized mattress, unfastened, on the roof of the car; a man sprawled, face down, across the top.

11:30 pm: a two-door red sports car stops midway on Bates between Fourth and Fifth. Four men exit, the youngest takes a basketball from the trunk and proceeds to circle in the street, bouncing the ball. The others fumble through the trunk, taking something small, unidentifiable to me, out and the four walk to 300 Bates, entering through the north side door. Lights are on, evident only when the door is open. After about fifteen minutes, another man, huge around the waist, walks from Third to the red car and drives it away, making a U-turn and heading toward Third.

Around 12:30, first week of July. A man, a woman and a child, about seven, walk south on Bates, up Fourth, the child pulling a luggage cart. The sound of the wheels convey a lonely, empty, nowhere feeling. A few minutes later, the man returns without the woman and child.

Almost anytime in the evening: a car pulls up on Bates. Headlights blink, wait a few seconds, blink again. A car drives up, driver to driver. hands go out, both cars drive away.

1 am: two men, loudly talking, riding bikes south on Bates. S____! says one man as he jumps off his bike. Broken chain? He drops the bike in the middle of the street and walks away.  From the window, I say, please, at least move it off the street. He obliges. The next day, several people checked it out for possibilities and left it before I pulled it over near the trash bin.

Slam! Around 11:30, the sound caught my attention. Curse words between a male and female. According to another neighbor who saw the incident, a man shoved a woman against the little library and her head hit the roof.

2 am: two women walking down the middle of the street; I could hear their conversation and their names used. Having turned the corner, one curses. Now knowing her name, I call gently from the upper window, “D___, please watch your language.” As if God had spoken, she looked around and answered, “Alright...Sorry!”

At two am, where would two women be going, walking with three very young children including a tiny baby?

After midnight, a neighbor discreetly (or so he thinks) places his scrapped carpeting into my trash bins.

A woman scurries like a rat into the drive, taking one of our recycling bins.

At 2:30 am, awakened by someone dragging scrap metal north on Bates.

Sleep, so often disturbed; wakeful times, so often perplexing.

sh 7/17/2012 (as published in Dayton's Bluff Forum)