Moving Out


Hot, purpling dusk

the shirtless youths throw

a football in the parking lot

a girl in a green tank top

descends the stairs and climbs into the

car her lumpy boyfriend drives.


The sun will come again tomorrow,

the ball will return to earth,

the girl will emerge from the car somewhere

the players in the parking lot will go their

separate ways and become pit dealers

construction foremen, certified public accountants

and massage therapists.


I will keep watching from this window or another

Tomorrow I will be waiting

and the day after that, until this longing

becomes familiar, and your face blurs in the distance—

you could be the guys playing football

or even that car-driving boyfriend,

your absence—

 

 

Joan Paulette Dudley is a poet and writer. She has a poem appearing in the next issue of Interim.