partly cloudy in the front room

Partly cloudy in the front room


There are children outside. they are screaming and running around. they move like a train through my yard, across the wall, under the wallpaper, between the boards. They disappear.
One of the cats scratches at something in the corner and the heater talks back. i remember more forks than this—one glass, two mugs, green, an empty bottle. This is not my desk, I guess. It belongs to Will. But it looks so much like my desk…
I wonder where my desk went.
A girl lives on Broad street with all my furniture—I forgot that, but I’d rather be a suitcase. I’d rather not the rain today, but if the street floods I’ll like that.
The frogs come out in choruses, then. God— remember how much he hated that?
When it would flood?—He’d be all surly and pathetic about it, holding his pants up around his knees…hated getting his feet wet and I always loved it. I just couldn’t stop laughing
then, God. It was bad. It was so bad but it was so funny and I never splashed him!