song for the corner girl

For you
there are too many colors
on the stores on either side
and your chest pains at every misstep
and all you want to do is stand still
but somehow forward is it.
You're supposed to be somewhere,
at none of these rusty
buzzing neon and flaking paint places
but somewhere.

You're a little girl on the corner of a street
and your parents let your hand go to smell the fruit
of the green-painted grocery bins
and the sweet smell makes you sick a little bit
and so does the gasoline
and so does the bookshop
and nobody is holding your hand. 

Well I find stoops to sit on
and play the harmonica. 
I think I scare you,
mostly because you're not sure what music
to tap your little white church shoes to
This particular
steel whistle tune
is for you,
cormer girl. 

-Citron