Poems 1
I hear thunder
I go out
to the porch

the first
drops of rain
cut the air

beat on the roof

a gust of wind
and a screen door
slams shut

rain blackened
elms twist
on a street
from my childhood

me and Luciano

are squatting
side by side
on the curb
after a storm

we launch twigs
and paper boats
in the run-off

there’s a bird’s nest
on the sidewalk

all this debris
shaken loose
in my head

the last time
I saw that street
I parked

with
out of state plates

in front
of my grandfather’s house

and sat again
on the curb

and a face
I could not see

watched me
from the shadows

of an upstairs
window

I saw the hand
pull back
the curtain

and I remembered
the day we left

in 1961
how I gazed out

from that same window
a boy of three

as my dad
and his cousin

loaded up
the moving van

that would
take us
to our new house

my rocking horse
in the middle
of the empty floor

and all the life
that waited

on the other side
of the glass
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