the other night i rode my bike uptown like we did last june.
past the closed library and through the empty main street
bike tires crunching on old asphalt / gliding over the yellow lines of empty parking spaces.
the air is thick and warm
and the feelings and smells of wheat harvest drift around.
i didn't turn down that street
like we used to.
( i didn't pull up on the driveway
and sit on the back patio with the dogs.
i didn't slip in the back door
into the little air conditioned house.
i didn't grab a lemon oreo from the jar
or a swig of raspberry lemonade from a red cup. )
that little house holds someone else now.
( this town never held any of us for long )
but last june and july
i remember thinking
i could get used to this.
and i think i did.