there was ruin
and I was seventeen,
terra firma
crows above.

the last eight years wrought
into a homecoming taking place
inside your Rav 4,
of all places.

all my memories of this
exist inside your vehicles

my dna too.

you want the past back?
we dredge it up---
stickiness and sweat.

you wear the same clothes:
tennis team-issued t-shirt
and basketball shorts,
of all things.

i’ve a gun now,
and it would be the time.
the crowing is louder.

if what i endure is pious,
then I’ll be a Catholic
like you.