Sitting at Night on the Front Porch

I’m here, on the dark porch, restyled in my mother’s chair.

10:45 and no moon.

Below the house, car lights

Swing down, on the canyon floor, to the sea.

In this they resemble us,

Dropping like match flames through the great void

Under our feet.

In this they resemble her, burning and disappearing.

Everyone’s gone

And I’m here, sizing the dark, saving my mother’s seat.