they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Monday, July 20, 2009

these streets, they breathe.

these streets are familiar -
the sound the wind makes as it
whips through the trees,
the way each house looks
as dusk falls
i can no longer walk them after work
when i recall
the way the mud puddles after each storm
(the way it always has)
and during rains that are closer to mist than rain really -
and how there, right there, in the middle of this sidewalk
that may or may not have my name carved in it,
kolby walks straight through
paying no mind to
the dirt that's saturated with july's sweat
because he sees that squirrel -
the one i didn't notice
until his pace quickened and his whine became
suddenly audible.

and even though he tries,
he'll never catch it.

so we watch it
up that maple over there -
the one i look so forward to seeing in autumn
when it
sets the yard on
fire -
the perfect spot for
photos and picnics and catching my breath to remember
that this is home

and it always had been, really.


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