under one roof
Our beds deflate overnight
And couch pillows press paisleys into reddened cheeks.
This basement has a sunset wall,
featuring gin, a border collie, and Hemingway.
Together we sleep!
United by soup and shared highway miles.
I wake to the beeping door,
adding up our late-night cigarettes,
and semi-private porch conversations,
"the midwest is good for sounds," I hear,
and a cicada echos over a pool of chlorine.
At the wedding, we believe in dancing
but haven’t decided about love.
If we don’t cheer the cause, will the crickets cry out for us?
Slowly, slowly, we begin to scatter.