on leaving the door unlocked
she took up half the couch
small glass dish atop her lap
shelling pistachios efficiently
directing each discovery
into her mouth
it was around midnight
the three of us seemingly
invading our own townhouse
having spent hours
painting the town pretty
our sudden entry didn’t seem
to interrupt her rhythm
calmly letting us know
she believes we live
three doors down
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 