there is a pale-blue house on a hill
with a muddy white picket fence,
surrounded by tulip beds. cardboard shoeboxes with
safety scissors and crayon stumps.
we left shoes on the front patio and
wandered around misted weeds and ant hills.

there is a strawberry brick house in a field
with indigo shutters and floral wallpaper walls.
flour and recipe books
on the kitchen counter, laughs parading over
the fire alarm, your hair the color of egg yolks and
coffee-stained teeth. your name slips between my teeth.

there was a birch mobile home beside a forest
with cigarette couches and a prickly pear cactus garden.
wooden wardrobes with plaid sheets and handkerchiefs.
i had a dream on carpet. we gave each other
mani-pedis and i lost my pomegranate chapstick.

there is an ebony building behind a graveyard,
with a large porch and potted plants.
black tights and polished hearses,
it was july, and i wore a charcoal dress.
i buried it all with you.