Rewards of living well: a house, a yard, presorted standard
US postage paid mail. Then come the voles, and follows,
the vole holes. Then fall, then winter, then the rains of April.
And then one night, a giant sinkhole opens in your driveway.
Big enough to fall into on your bicycle while you are waving
at your elderly neighbor who is out edging his sidewalk.
But before that can happen, you stretch yellow caution
tape around 4 pine stakes, and while so doing, suddenly
think of a friend across town who loves the Allman Brothers
and Blue Oyster Cult, even though she’s a generation removed.
You remember then how sometimes her heart closes up and
she lives in darkness, like a vole, but sadly—she knows better.