When I walk outside in the dead of night,
I think I will see your car parked in front of my house,
like you used to do when you would throw rocks at my window.
sometimes I think the glow of the stove light
against the glass door in the kitchen
will produce an image of your face,
for it, I would lie awake and wait.
last breath before I sleep to make
your body in a home I do not recognize.
this woman is not your mother
and I am not your lover,
anymore.
I know the way to your house in my dreams,
I keep the key in my pocket, but I can never pick it up
and I wonder, when you walk outside in the dead of night,
do you fear you’ll see my car parked in front of your house?
like I used to do when we made love in your bedroom.
—HCB
