Bodega | Inside the Box in My Yard

Finally, I think,

I will never run off

into the distance

alone again.

I thank the wall

(my hand touching it

at chest level)

for keeping me

in suspense about

the courtyard

and parked cars.

The future is a room

that I escape to

when I am resigned

to suffer, and soon

I will reawaken inside.

No Jon, not forever.

The sun has a specific

incidence tonight.

As it sets, the effect

gets stronger in the trees

and the branches

come to move as though

my thoughts

give sentience

to stationary things.

Each set of keys

from my past:

they return to me

as it grows dark.

I turn them, and

the box fills with water.

Inside the Box in My Yard