This house

I am sitting here
waiting on you to return from
a gender exclusive affair on
the other end of the street, and
every car passing turns down the one street and
continues down the other and
at times I convince myself, that
tonight you’ve decided not to come back.
You told me yesterday
you were leaving,
not me but here, this
place that we found so perfect.
You needed an adventure, one
in which you hoped to find yourself, and
today we went and looked at
particularly adventuresome spots.
Tonight I am waiting,
after pizza, water, orange juice, cigarettes,
and the glass door tilted in,
and the glass windows tilted out,
and the screen door shut,
and the bugs humming –
all cars make the turn and continue straight,
sitting and smoking,
I hear clanking of keys
and think it is you,
but it is just ghost,
as the whole place soon will be,
little by little,
until nothing of matter
of either of us will be here.