We pack into our back door-
way between the bike rack
& the trash, drifting towards
sunlight & the waft of lit charcoal, & with
the basslines we hear through our halls
nightly as Jimmy hands plates across
the fence & hedge partitioning the play-
ground from our alley. Kids jostle for
helpings & tap plasticware with the cymbals.
We all join the refrain:
like sunshine & rain.