Suburbia

Meet me at the corner of Golden Willow and Juneberry

When the heat dies down 

and the hazy horizon bleeds into the

paper houses

The moon sitting high,

full and happy

The dry brush 

swaying with movement from

woken jackrabbits

And the scene is set

We’ll take a stroll down Acacia Ridge

Duck in and out of shadows as we pass

each street lamp

dimmed and flickering like lightning bugs in

a mason jar

Summer 

In Suburbia

It’s after 7 and the residents emerge

Leashes in hand, iPods out, headphones on

Blue and grey trash bins filled to the brim with

compost and plastic water bottles

They line the freshly paved driveways

 like an army of soldiers

Night falls and 

everything is still again

Summer

In Suburbia