Last Night Frank Came to Dinner

Published in Lost in Tall Grass (Finishing Line Press 2014)

Last night Frank came to dinner.
The house had been dark too long,
chimney smoke the only sign he was there,
stirring at least to rise and put a log on.
We told him to come, that we’d made a pie. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised
to hear the truck pull up,
but I was—
what with Frank so close
we can hear his kettle and his screen door.

Until minutes passed
between cut motor and
crunch of gravel.
And I realized how long the road can be
to the house next door.