The Road [New Draft]


Children would congregate in circles,

line up to do cartwheels

and criss-cross along the path.

The road curved, twisted

like curls. Like fingers,

it’d branch into five different directions.

One bent towards the east like an elbow;

another narrowed towards the north like a neck.

The road was their stage. With each visit,

roles would switch, dynamics would enter

and depart from different sides. Summer months,

they were friends. She’d kiss him on the cheek and skip

to the west  where the grass grew past her knees.

Some seasons, they were lovers. Holding hands,

they’d walk down the path, up the hill that overtopped

the sea like a patio.

When the road was coated with snow

and left unplowed, the couple stayed

cooped in her house. The tea kettle

would cough steam; the radio would

whistle his tunes. Sprawled out

on the couch, she’d cradle her cup of chai

and watch him drive off.

Off to another house,

to see a similar face that smiled as he

plowed a new path.

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