No porch yet;
just green grass hills for miles,
glass skies filled to the brim
with clouds .
No time to the day on this weekend;
just existence.
Long dirt roads smell of tobacco,
old barns perfect for hide and seek,
hours outside lost and found
on our two acre piece of inheritance
No porch yet
crying for us to keep inside
and grow up;
taking away my youth.
Woods with thick clay dirt
hit my face— “on accident Mom…”
I can breathe in my youth again
before the trees that shelter me now
are replaced by shingles and wood.
That ***** fun of my youth
cleansed my pores
in big murky ponds
my youthful spirit may very soon be pushed away,
by a porch, built for parties.
Until that time
it was the sunsets that pushed me inside
to the smell of dad’s spaghetti;
variations of the same basic recipe.
I saw smiles and laughter
Dishes cleaned as we were bathed.
Bathtub bubbles rained puddles on the floor.
Wet and naked laps around the house
“ANDREA LEAH! Get your naked **** back here
and get your jammies on!”
Never had time to dry off completely
just wanted to dance around.
Damp bodies eventually squeezed into
barbie doll underwear and pink frilly nightgowns.
A rock in the big comfy recliner-
inescapable,
the day is going to end
before the stars shine bright
against the green grass and black night sky.
Luckily, there is no porch yet.