Front Gate
Ms. Haiku
Posts: 7,265
No one walked through the front gate unannounced. The squeak of the front gate drew multiple lines through each day like graph paper, and each square filled was one less moment of summer. The front gate separated the patch of grass of our apartment building from the parked cars, which I saw in cycles at the end and the middle of each month. With my eyes closed I could tell the day of the month by how many car doors I heard close.
When the radiator crammed our apartment with unsolicited heat I escaped down three flights of stairs to sit in the shade of the tree near the front gate, waiting for our intimate parade. More strangers sauntered through the front gate in the summer, but with their quick steps they did not seem bothered by the heat. The strangers always greeted me before they continued up to the third floor. They whistled as they walked back out, and I heard car doors quickly close.
Near the front gate I counted the blades of dry grass between the sidewalk cracks. I counted the number of cracks within each sidewalk square. I counted the number of leaves on the shading tree. Looking up was the last way to feel a breeze, and I savored a breeze like dessert after a dinner of meatloaf. At the sound of the front gate squeak I saw the first floor apartment light turn on. When the first floor apartment light turned on the second floor apartment window opened. For a few years I looked for a switch that connected the front gate to the light of the first floor apartment. I never met the person who turned on the first floor apartment light, and once I saw a shadow of the person who opened the second floor apartment window. I expected frowns from these apartments. Only a few times did I open the gate after the sun had set to become as friendly as a stranger.
When the radiator crammed our apartment with unsolicited heat I escaped down three flights of stairs to sit in the shade of the tree near the front gate, waiting for our intimate parade. More strangers sauntered through the front gate in the summer, but with their quick steps they did not seem bothered by the heat. The strangers always greeted me before they continued up to the third floor. They whistled as they walked back out, and I heard car doors quickly close.
Near the front gate I counted the blades of dry grass between the sidewalk cracks. I counted the number of cracks within each sidewalk square. I counted the number of leaves on the shading tree. Looking up was the last way to feel a breeze, and I savored a breeze like dessert after a dinner of meatloaf. At the sound of the front gate squeak I saw the first floor apartment light turn on. When the first floor apartment light turned on the second floor apartment window opened. For a few years I looked for a switch that connected the front gate to the light of the first floor apartment. I never met the person who turned on the first floor apartment light, and once I saw a shadow of the person who opened the second floor apartment window. I expected frowns from these apartments. Only a few times did I open the gate after the sun had set to become as friendly as a stranger.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
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The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird