like a building without a facade
a church without a door
I stammer
utter a false prologue
made up in a backyard of days
past
sandbox hopes red skins sweltering
where we never tired
just played
with matchbox cars
and saved all our popsicle sticks
making lanes
in the dirt
until  mama called dinner
and we ate pork chops beaming
those days I cherish
now I
sit on the couch
reminiscing