Old shadows break in the brand new walls
The dirt projected by the naked winter giants of trees
Stains bare wooden flesh with familiar rusty bandages
All the old calloused front porches
Welcome the newcomer
You can see the tears marked on the ground
Where the old house stood
Outlined in chalk like a crime scene
At the bottom of a pit
That got ripped in the floorboards
But the construction workers –
They plaster the old wound shut.
I look at the empty kiddie pool in my backyard
In the Midwest summer
My friends used to come to my house
So they could all get in it,
But they don’t like to swim much anymore
I am someone who is waiting on a dock in the middle of the night. There is a gross, green electric light shining on me. There is something out in the waves.
Kid sitting at the edge of a dock.
Legs swinging in free fall.
Wood scrapes into his hands.
He thinks that the stars can talk to him.
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