The Other Side

I used to stand on top of the shed in the back of my

grandmama’s house and see the other side.

The other side of where I was.

The other side had tall buildings and I could buy

hot dogs and pretzels on the street.

At night the hum of the subway and faraway sirens

would put me to sleep.

I dreamed of the other side.

I’d seen it on vacation and TV.

The other side didn’t have a creek or magnolia trees

and warm women who smelled like cookies hugging you

on hot, sticky Sunday afternoons.

If I stood for a long time,

the other side would fade and

where I stood would light my world.