States Avenue

We sat on that corner
and argued the politics
of rye & ginger,
too broke for breakfast.

We knew the park’s damp pillow
after a long night,
the muddy dogwalks
that led us home:

a two-room flat,
the landlord’s foul rendition
of “Stardust” in the garden.
Now these days rattle

with a pill-jar all their own.
I hear the late TV’s
overture to the lonely
repeated beyond these walls.

I think I see your slow dance
on the sidewalk, your misbegotten
groceries, the kitchen ready
to let you in, paused

in the scene you loved:
the spoon at ease against the bowl,
the dishtowel soft
and waiting for disaster.



(Appeared in Permafrost)


Posted for DVerse Poets OpenLinkNight, Week 41.
Hello, DVerse poets!