My first thought is, how did all these houses
get up here? I used to climb the road
on my Schwinn to look out over the city,
cranking up the long, steep slope.
The sky was the sky, the fields the fields,
dry as notebook paper. Then I remember,
it’s been fifty years! The houses are big,
with various gables and sleek black cars.
The streets broaden and curve. It’s evening,
after a hot summer day, and as I walk by,
a man on one side and a man on the other
stand in the half-light, in the evening air,
and water their front lawns by hand,
calling out to each other like friends.