‘Suburban Jewel’

May 28, 2013

Like red hots on the grill, thwacking screen doors,

radio jazz and wide supermarket aisles,

I am the noun lacking in another’s life.

These scenes and scents — the wisps of home in summer —

at once complete and cripple the present tense.

Tense as I am. Billowy to be in now.


Future domestic quiet in the gutter.

Trash more beautiful scattered on hills

beside the highway, on our frozen black beach,

than hopscotching the dirty city sidewalks.

Bring me suburbia so I can crown it

jewel of the haunted homesick spirit.


Enough babble at the lack of trees. Begin

the trek back to the source which kills like salmon

in a new water home. Daggers to the stars

through sunroofs and vantage porches. The neighbors wave

and blow hot chat of grandkids — welcome it

as a crisp dog on a bun. Savor. Digest.


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