#thass right

On warming Saturday mornings

I would sit on your porch

Looking over a complex of neighbors

Some carrying in their grocery bags

Some taking out their trash

A few walking their dogs

As, flying, some children pedal’d passed

Then, as time passed us still,

The sun turned its head to the moon

Showing the darkness of its back

With little holes of light

Peering through every starry crack

Like water-gleaming caves

Wind blowing through its tunnels

With a nipping-nose cold

From surely some alien place

Yet by then, my patience shortened

So I would inch closer to the door

But you always asked me to stay

With you, with them

And so then, as you told another story