Shared Space
Crossed a linoleum floor
to a paisley spread,
newly weds
side by side in
separate beds – two
children shared a
heated room; one sucked her
thumb, one wet her bed.
His Uncles boots untied,
perched on a stool near
a metal sign – selling
old stuff, “Antiques,” he
said.
Cribs, pillows, and one old
blanket hangs to divide
a living space; his new
family all crammed
into one room –
Is this their honeymoon?
“Stay put, lots of space
right here, near the beach,”
his Uncle John tugged on
a sunburned arm.
Many a night we slept
on wet sand, when youth
was on our side –
traveled long – counted
pennies for food –
One day we will stare at our
children, sleeping – tiny toes
peeking from a blanket –
Eighteen wheelers
cruised the beach road
at night – going some
eighty miles per hour,
scared to shut your
eyes, as head lights
beamed into the room.
By morning light, while
pelicans were playing on
a dock – feet tip toed
passed the hanging blanket;
heard a couple snore, and
glanced at two children
sharing a crib: sheets
the smell of urine.
Left paisley spreads and
separate beds, newly weds,
and children sharing one
small crib – in one room
among antiques, on a
beach.