cedar drive


maple leaves twirled when the ceiling fan didn't

a rooftop-dwelling pail leading to a

helicopter hail of unsolved mysteries

sometimes piles, sometimes perfectly lined

right outside of the door lie sandals of

welcomed guests and residents alike

if the truck was going five miles fast

then we must have been going ten

our only souvenir was the popsicle stick

winds drying tears of hand-sewn sarongs

hung by wood and metal on elastic line

like waving flags of our family members

wiping the rain off plastic, blue seats and

having chains imprinted on our palms

an unsecure swingset meant going higher

cooling jasmine tea on the front steps

cracked cement next to moonflower trees

pulling buds to make huts for ants

notebook paper money stashes and

couch cushion fortresses were the

perfect setting for an afternoon heist

pictures of my grandfather, incense filled the air

the sweet ripe fruits laid out on the red, silk cloth

the scents of death and the culture of prayer

standing on step-stools by the topload washer

clothes were pounded with paint sticks

when the electricity bill was late again

there was a dishwasher we called drying rack

chipped and mismatched and free of scraps

ceramic plates were washed with hard hands

sitting in corners singing words i don't

understand, khmer karaoke filling the room

the lease reached its age before i did

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