Steve Edwards Poem

Driving at Night

Every house has a story.
Every house aches. 
I could park 
in the driveway & be 
someone else a minute.
Walk through the front door
saying, "It's me!" 
& half-believe I'm home.
Light that makes everyone
beautiful, spilling 
from kitchen windows 
onto lawns. Bare bulb
hung in the garage, 
the Corvette no one drives
under its tarp. 
Every house weeps. 
Every house leans 
toward the tree-line, listening
to crickets, or the creek,
or the dog down the street
baying at the stars.
Every house hates itself.
Every house watches me
drive by & begs:
Please, take me with you.
As many as I can, I do—
though I can't save them.

Steve Edwards@The_Big_Quiet