Separation

Separation

The hop over her
neighbor's fence found me
committed.  Walking past
their blinded windows
assured me no one was home.
In the grassless corner I sat
and waited.
The sun beat down on me
as a runner beats his legs,
but I was already beaten.
The cracks
through her neighbor's fence
provided just enough space
to give my eyes the picture
                                      my heart needed to separate
love from acceptance.
Her back porch, clouded
in roses and other flowers
only a florist would be familiar
with, kept silent.
An hour took its time
and held me at the mercy
of whomever's house this was.
My sweat-soaked t-shirt
and spur-covered socks were
mocking my instincts to stay.
Once the wait was over,
and her sliding glass door slid
open to the tune of laughter and
elation, I was sure she
could see me.  He
was with her.  Instead of running,
I stayed and watched them sit;
much like my parents
might have, if they'd had
any love for each other.