You're on the other side of town now—

a universe away—so my house

sits still and silent. Everyday

we grow more distant—as work

fills gaps once uncertain—and

the pressure of attempted love

falls away—like days

crossed off a calendar.

 

We change—and we do grow—

and something moves in

to replace pain—new days, and often

even better ones.

 

Still, the week is always long

without a taste of you, so please

visit me on Sundays, when

the world is cool and far away—and

civilization rings merely with

echoes of lawnmowers and barking dogs—

though banal sounds at times bring comfort.

 

Sit with me on desolate Sundays, when

I lie in bed—alone—and wonder

if God will finally push the button

or Monday will bring redemption, and

whether we'll take it or just

stake our claim

on this monopoly board.

   

 

 

Gregg Rodriguez is a Houston-based writer, photographer, and produced playwright. He received a degree in public relations from the University of Texas at Austin. He also studied poetry with James Krusoe of the Santa Monica Review. His creative writing has been featured in the Houston Chronicle’s Texas Magazine, The Bayou Review, and The Texas Triangle. He currently works in public relations, and maintains an on-line photography portfolio at www.greggvision.com.