The One Three Eight
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.