The Neighborhood Rhapsody

Mothers and grandmothers take turns
Looking over the brood, gripping their eyes to the world
That is their neighborhood.
 
Young men whose shifts begin in the evening, or began in the morning,
Bark at each other over feet that may or may not have
Been over the three-point line, and they get dizzy, 
Smack-talking and chasing each other over the perimeter and under the sun.
 
Little girls hopscotch on days-old chalk,
And come round again, joyfully,
And patiently wait for each other’s turn.
 
The rest of the kids, perfecting the method of carelessness,
Open the hydrants, bathing in the waters of the city,
Washing the sweat and sun that coated the skin,
That had left only dust.
 
A million bees zoom on by,
Tilting their heads one way,
And then to the other, looking for flowers.
 
The chatter of old men talking gossip and old athletes they remembered
Is far more interesting than their marathon games of dominoes.
 
When the golden gaze of the sun has faded,
Street meat smoke and spices rub up against the stars,
Perfuming the air with tastes and tenderness,
And the days are so long, that we lose track of the hours…

A Character Analysis of Michael Corleone

Al Pacino as Michael didn’t make it cool to be a gangster; 
Capone, Scarface, and Nino Brown seemed to have a lot more fun
When they were depicted in cinema,
Seeing how far they could push themselves and the world to its limits,
All the while, flaunting death and feeding poison to the neighborhood.
There’s no glamour in the vice in the second Godfather like in other mob movies;
There’s a lot of compromising and negotiating, 
Like discussions between senators.
He’s not cursing. He’s not using drugs. 
He’s not jubilant on jobs and hits well done. 
Shootouts between rival mobs are sexy on the big screen and television;
But for Michael, this Macbeth of Mario Puzo,
The battles are mental burdens and betrayals
And failing marriages, and so they aren’t things
I nor audiences would be inspire to emulate. 
And yet, I can suffer with him, despite it.

Matthew Johnson is the author of the poetry collections, Shadow Folks and Soul Songs (Kelsay Books), Far from New York State (New York Quarterly Press), and the chapbook, Too Short to Box with God (Finishing Line Press). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The African American Review, Heavy Feather Review, London Magazine, and elsewhere. He has been recognized with several nominations and recognitions, including from the Best of the Net, Grand View University, Hudson Valley Writers Center, and Pushcart Prize. He’s the managing editor of The Portrait of New England and poetry editor of The Twin Bill. Learn more at https://www.matthewjohnsonpoetry.com.