some nights, we
drive uptown
into the private
cul-de-sacs
and stare at the
big houses.
their windows
bright with the
orange glow
of finer things

we trace our
fingertips over
the rooftops
until the tiles
dissolve into
the midnight
blue. and dream
the way dreamers
do with an
apartment
fit for two.

i turn to you
and say,
“but what
would we do
with a place
like that?”
“we’d never
keep up on
the cleaning,”
you reply.

we laugh,
driving off
looking hungry
in the rearview
mirror. secretly
wishing we
could
give the
big house
to one another.