Stillness until six, the yards and porches
giant toy sets for the street cats.

Each sleep a baffling practice
for leaving you behind
entirely, even if we’re touching hands.
For the innocent mind, which it will, wanting out.

Sun re-spreads
among the bungalow façades;
like a memorial on the bank of a river,

shoes in pairs, some children’s,
lead to the front doors.