Excuse me little girl. I almost hit you with my car
Are you alright? Let me drive you home. Is it far?
And she said “no mister”
   Over there is where my home is at
And she pointed to her place, over top of a Chinese Laundromat.
Her face was pale, hands brown from the puddles where she played
And the Levi’s on her looked like they had been there for days

Her hair was stringy black, windblown, sticking to her lips
Wearing a summer coat on a winter’s day that hung down well past her hips
I told her she should hurry home, her mother must be worried sick
Cause the streets were busy, and the five o’clock traffics awful thick
But you know she touched the river behind my eyes
   when she said she cared for herself
Her daddy died and her mothers working at a bar

Main street kids
So maligned, so confined
Main street kids
I’d watch them closer if they were mine

Imagine what it must be like having traffic lights in your front yard
Having to find a new place to play cause the old ones just been tarred
Taking drinks from alley drainpipes, the fountains of her youth and time
Being rocked to sleep by midnight trains, and the lights of a neon sign

Main street kids
   So maligned, so confined
Main street kids
I’d watch them closer
You know I’d watch them closer if they were mine.

Brody Cameron

Brody is a Canadian child care worker based in Ireland. He is a consultant with SocSci Consultancy and the Irish Journal of Applied Social Studies.