I would lay on the porch, tapping my foot on the screen door
staring at the scorching sun,
until I couldn't take it anymore

Seek shade inside , cold as I could be on the cool cement floor of the living room
Until I would hear the rumble and wonder who was bringing dust down the road
through the line of willow trees

Might've been the most exciting part of my day , some of the time

I peeked out the lace curtains , then I knew that soon the day would change either way

Though when I saw the shiny red of the side of a car ,
running along the trees
It must have been something other than somebody returning home

The dust trails to the front of the house
I close the curtains as a man hops out of a Ferrari 308 ,
placing two brown paper bags, deep in our mailbox.

I watch him get back in his car and drive away,
stepping out onto the porch to watch the red run through the trees again.

I am so curious to know what is in there
But deep down I could take a strong guess.

I decide not to check the mail that day -
you never come home....

Two days later, the red is running through the trees again, back to the mailbox , but this time , he is taking one of the brown paper bags back.
I feel like I have been watching out the window the whole time , waiting for your car, instead of the red again, wondering who this red vehicle is.

I still don't check the mail.
You still don't come home.
You still don't call .
That's typical of you.
Two months ago,
You told me that's just how you are , if I don't like it
leave.

So I pack my bags , I leave them on the porch.
I go to the windows, open all of the curtains,
I walk out the door, and I close it for a last time.

I walk past the mailbox , and away.