same as before
they pull into the driveway
until they don’t pull in at all
and stand “Hellos” smiling at the door
undoing garments and sleeves.
If you’re young,
kisses and pinches,
or old,
hugs and warm greetings,
setting tables and turkeys cooling,
presents and questions with the gravy―
“What have you been doing?” and
“How is school?” ―a typical
Rockwellian agenda,
until a point; until one day
that’s it and
you never see them again,
though they live and live,
wearing out their years in a toll booth
in Georgia,
the rest, in Atlanta.

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