New neighbors are pouring yards of cement
The foundation for a new porch
I miss having a front porch

I suspect it is my youth that I miss
maybe because there seems to be nothing to replace it
in Fall I am coasting, foot off the brake, through piles of dead leaves

The first girl I fell in love with is gone, cast into
some completely different form
The once temperate water is chill, I don’t
swim anymore, I don’t see the point.

Oh, I am surrounded at all times by crowds
on a naked beach, completely visible.
At young ages, everything people do seems peremptory
Gorgeous people are amused by my insipid lovemaking
The risible rasp of an old man voice

I clump down the basement stairs and then back up.
I pause at the top to catch my breath.  Here I am.

Cracks will form most often in green, uncured concrete
the old slabs are done moving and settling, they are solid – so
any cracks then are from too much weight and a brittle heart.