I always push the button twice
at the crosswalk near my house.
The second push must be a waste;
it doesn’t make the light change faster.
My thumb just always doubles up,
as if it wants to hurry up.
Impatience isn’t in my head,
but in my hand when it sees red.
He goes into their living room
when no one’s there, and writes
a brief excuse behind the couch,
down by the casement where
the wall is dusty: “I’m so sorry.
I ate the last two eggs”
The last time he was here, he left
a note above the hallway door:
“The steak was salty, but I loved
the cherry pie.” He keeps
a stub of pencil in his pocket
for things he cannot say.
The next time that he’s here, he knows
which angle in the nook
he’ll use for his apology
for writing on the wall.
By Andrew Shields
- Andrew Shields lives in Basel, Switzerland. His collection of poems ‘Thomas Hardy
Listens to Louis Armstrong’ was published by Eyewear in June 2015. His band
Human Shields released the album ‘Somebody’s Hometown’ in 2015 and the EP
‘Défense de jouer’ in 2016. You can find Andrew over on Twitter: @ShieldsAndrew & on his Website: http://andrewjshields.blogspot.com