186

The checkered tables at the diner
stand unreplaced.
The one we always sat at
that would wobble every time you
put your elbows on it.
The same spiky haired waitress
who'll always talk about the government.

You're still the only one who knows
how I used to feel about my parents
and that in the middle of the night I used
to lie down in the middle of the road.

The shell you found me at the beach
would look just the way it did
if I took it out of the shoebox
in the middle of the stack.