afternoon at my house in Lowell

Again in Lowell we arrive and rest
our home gold with black shutters
you barely notice.

I upon the front stoop,
you inside at the diningroom
table sorting mail

These are the times we won't remember
when we're so busy dying
to remember the good days
we had.

These are the times we should remember
though and it makes me sad
to think of all the innocense
locked up here
and there

Behind the hutch
under the untrimmed evergreen shrub
with the lost tennis racket
and the half-deflated football.

These are the times we'll forget
until we die
and

of course...

regret.