Homesick for a place
I never knew.
It is almost
the place between
shoulder and chest
or the musty lungful
of his beard,
the breathy buildup
before her canteloupe
kiss-laugh
duck feathers, lemon Pledge
and a faint whiff
asphalt sealer and coal.
Half-a-half-a century
and I need to ache
to get to my home-not-house.