Haven't seen you in a week.
Today is Tuesday.
The Dutch Elm shivers on the front lawn.
A U—Haul waits at the curb.
These houses that watch me are coffins.
The suburbs are a Cold War painting.
Neighbors stand at windows and in doorways to their own graves.
I press Rewind and Play, see us over.
Beyond glass, past the shutters, you are safe at a distance.
I never intended the old man to break through my eyes.
A UPS truck circles the block.
In the city I'll rent what belongs to my father.
The face of his fridge rusts.
He says I failed in life.
I pack firecrackers to warn me of fires.
I know I will die alone.