porch soia I sat out on the porch wind blocked but sun allowed small space where sun:warmth trying to want to learn every time a lock sounded I wondered if it was him and he would come and talk talk always ends with friction heat worn off by the space 010201 ... argo I've had a balcony for three weeks and I haven't seen a sunset or rise yet. Obviously lots of quality tv programs and trashy books to read. 010719 ... distorted tendencies I like to sit out there on it cherry wood when it rains. Letting the droplets run down my bare skin.. [Renewal.] 020324 ... lulie everyone around here uses them to display their fine taste in out door furniture. you never see anyone using the furniture. 020324 ... raze he was leaning on one of the pillars when a piece of limestone broke free. he fiddled with it and a few more pieces broke off. he was able to slide them back into place, and they'll stay there as long as a strong wind doesn't knock them loose, but what was once a cracked but still solid hunk of rock now has the appearance of a poorly made jigsaw puzzle that will never quite look like the picture on the box, with the lines between the pieces jagged and thick. 140703 ... tender square when the weather allows it, my porch is my favorite place to spend my time. the dimensions of it used to be larger; the concrete stairs that were poured at the side of the house remain, marking where the original entrance used to be. the owners before us cut the porch in half to create a foyer into the house, landscaped the front with garden stones to serve as makeshift steps. it’s a compact, cozy space, and it’s decorated with pieces that carry a lot of meaning for me. i furnished the concrete floor with a pale green argyle outdoor rug. my mother-in-law’s gliding metal bench is centered in the space along the window, and the matching mini table is arranged in front of it. the bench has a golden seat cushion my parents bought me as a recent graduation gift, and i added two throw pillows with soft flowers in the style of monet, bringing in hues of violet and fern to tie in with the dandelion. arranged along the outdoor wall is my grandmother’s crooked plant stand she used to keep photographs on. on each shelf, there’s a ceramic pot with a different plant; haworthia retusa, dragon tree, dracaena. above that, a circular metal wall ornament in indigo and purple with yellow and orange swirls; a gift from my mother for michael and i when leigh ann died. now that the seasons are shifting, the sun has moved 45 degrees, pours through the arbor vitae that line the south side of the house, heating my cheek. for a long time i’ve been waiting, hoping to feel her presence with me again; the way the light throws patterns of shadow over the space as i write here each day is making me believe she already is. 210919 ... tender_square he pitched forward to better see through the smudged window as the train slowed to a stop. i didn’t turn my head toward what captured his attention, i was too immersed in the words of a woman whose last name translated into “courtyard.” i met his eyes and he lifted his chin to prompt my noticing. and i saw the band of colourful condos over my left shoulder, the rosewood, iris and cobalt siding trimmed in fresh white. i didn’t know we would stop here, in this town without a station, but i should’ve remembered this is the route. sleepy beachfront of our first overnight trip and where we honeymooned. i pointed to a rocking swing on one of the balconies exclaiming, “it’s the exact same as your mother’s, except for the color,” the one we inherited and kept on our porch. “look! it even has the matching table!” and i swore it was a sign as we traveled south to scatter her ashes at dawn in the pensacola bay following two years of waiting for this pandemic to cease. i closed my eyes and tried to remember the last time we had crossed these tracks on foot; was it when we drove back from saying goodbye to her in houston? no. it was last august. my eyes misted at the sight of lake michigan shrouded in fog; that summer was the last time i was faithful to him, and this was the site of my undoing. 220504 ... tender_square something fluttered in my periphery and i flinched. lifted my head to see a big, bold monarch, hovering like a kite over my head. i turned to watch it's path and it was gone. and i know was leigh ann giving a quick hello. 220621 ... tender_square since the tenant has left, i've noticed changes to the porch across the street. the young couple has brought out their patio chairs as permanent fixtures. they were out there reading last night as the light faded. they were out there playing with their young son in the front yard. these are small joys they were unable to have when the tenant anxiously paced the walk, smoking and swearing, sketchy as ever. 230902 what's it to you? who go blather from