we never put in the driveway, it
just appeared after years of car tracks,
the hard dirt rutting up with rain water,
each new visitor leaving pieces
car doors thump loudest in the
early morning, no one whistling yet, no bacon
in the pan, the smell of night’s
rhythms giving way to diesel fuel.
the first thought brings a gasp, another
blessed day, another lone moment
across the dividing line,
neighbor’s faces appear, their sinks busy
with coffee cups and orange juice,
their children still asleep,
faces blessed with tears.