Jay Street
There are no straps on our boots
And when we fall asleep hungry
We don’t dream the American Dream
The tune from the ice cream truck
Can’t help falling flat
Because we have no truck with trust
Our checkbooks can’t stop bleeding red
And when the cops patrol in these parts
It isn’t to make sure we’re safe
No one’s going to ask us
If we’re thinking about law school
And you wouldn’t want your kid to
Repeat what we hear every day
on the street, no.
Not where I’m from
Alice Mitchell is a Sophomore pursuing her bachelor’s degree. Her childhood in Gloversville has heavily influenced her writing.