These nights,
Built of
Caramel couch cushions
Made for movie marathons,
A screeching screen door,
Giddy goodbyes on the front stoop.
These days,
Calling from
Out the back door;
Singing sweet songs of
Swims in the sunshine,
Avocado on sourdough,
Afternoons suspended in shade.
These hours,
Whiling away
On the scuffed cement curb,
Settled on scratchy black seats.
Mumbled melodies of conversation,
Engine shuddering and sputtering
Against a dying battery.
A street away,
A fence,
Glossy white slats;
A snout pokes through.
A window;
Dark curtains, partly drawn.
Out of sight, a lamp on.
A front door,
One that’s always open to the breeze.
Up ahead, make two lefts
and
Loop around the curve
Down the street,
A cracked brick
Driveway,
The fading red roof.
Keys fumbling for the lock
In a dimmed entryway.
Down the hall,
First door on your
Left;
A bed that swallows you,
As lids drift close.
These walks,
4 and a half minutes.
These moments,
Woven across
4 and a half years.
