The cul-de-sac is cold now,
spry children play no more
& those bright marks of chalk
from softball
have long faded into lore,

the parents have all moved away
their sons & daughters grown,
the driveways need resurfacing
the seedy lawns need mown,

behind an iron window guard,
desperate eyes peek out,
I hear a woman’s frenzied call,
I hear a man’s stern shout,

Then suddenly, the man appears,
fist up, approaching fast,
I roll the window up, shift gears
& leave dark skid marks
on the past.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s