And Suddenly There Is That Touch...

*Written for day 29 of the PAD challenge. Prompt: "and suddenly (blank)."

and suddenly
there is that touch to
the small of the back
in mid-afternoon, the
sun starting a slow decline

as the number 52 bus
roars past--then fades--the
black plastic sack taped to
the window of Republica
Cigars blocks the sun as he
sits and rolls, rolls
the tanned leaves into tight cylinders

as hot tar, sticky-black
is poured and pressed into
potholes

she turns and ruminates
on the veins of cracked plaster,
adding them to the list (the damp,
of course, caused it)

and shouts rise up from
the pathway below the bedroom
window, competing with the
summer sound of motorcycles
from the highway

twisting the sheet in her
hands and counting the
blossoms: forget-me-nots, blue-
bells, forsythia like that

growing by the schoolyard,
waiting for the lilacs to bloom
at the white house on the
corner, passing by that
cloud of scent to
inhale deeply...

she sighs and
starts the dinner