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ten nineteen parkway drive
saturday nights on parkway drive
reflections in the windshield of my car
the house has changed so little outside
and yet i can no longer just walk on in
the birdbath sits crooked in the front yard
waiting for us kids to straighten it up
but us kids are gone and done all growed up
with our own crooked birdbaths and
our own kids to straighten them up
grapevines in the back yard are
purple with summer testament
no faces and fronts of tee shirts remain
to match that particular shade of september
no laughter explodes
from the all those grownups in the kitchen
loud enough to be heard over on McKinley
these put up preserves are mason jarred
sometimes they do a poor job of tasting the way they did back then
when first sealed inside those summer containers
just the same as these poorly constructed words
which serve those memories no justice at all
there will never be grapevines again
© david sechrest, 2001
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