From Sadje, one of my first friends at dVerse Poets
I only wanted simple he said she said the chorus said with a “we” watching from outside the lines drawn while singing in tune over Greek pastries at that little place in the district that specialized in just that sort of thing, some sweet some tart while she scolded me again and I turned my back not really thinking of where this could end maybe in the bed or maybe in the front yard gathering my clothes or even helping our neighbor, Mrs Pembroke in her constant break downs on the front lawn, such overly dramatic moments that no one needed to see of her loss of Harry and his scratchy chin that reminded her of sandpaper on that first hardwood in that place on Marchan Street, in the suburbs finally, where their little William took his first steps but fell down, fell down a lot, that took them to doctors to try and help him stand back up that she told me of and drained their accounts until William stood and stood tall and thanked his Mom for being patient while Mr Pembroke drank himself away at Louies, everyone hated Louie, but he was refuge with a drink and he just sat the black umbrella’s lamenting how William had never been a famous ballplayer until they found him hunched and dead, the longest time it seemed for anyone to notice and we went back to simple.
Caralie could stand on her own and loved sweet things, like any kid, especially baklava.
I gathered my things off the lawn.
frankenberrysattic.com 