Front porch – a balcony view – retirement’s play. Novel – this place – silence stretches, pauses briefly – a car creeps by, or a
A single, blow-up bed claims my stake on this house mostly empty – dust remnants of former occupants rise at my passage – I chase
Outside, clouds hover, heavy, threatening. Inside, men haul – china cabinet, weathered couch – accumulation marking years, exiting under duress echoes fill in the spaces
Solitude. I dream of expansive landscapes, crave your panoramic silence, thrill to the ideal of your boundless sanctity. Solitude. You wrap me in separateness, strip
Chance encounter, a simple “hello”, and I reel backwards, grasping… blank the mind a trickster, memory inaccessible, panic pulses a response… hovers out of reach
She dresses for company, every day – just in case. Keeps a puzzle at her side – a distraction for lonely times, entertainment for guests.