Concrete patches
Manifest Destiny ended
On the trail of Lewis and Clark
We settled near the shores
Of the Pacific
After the second Big One
We moved to subdivisions and tract homes
With ordered, efficient expectations
Porches became small concrete patches
Big enough for two or three JWs
To argue theology from
Until we shut the door in their faces
Porches lost their draw out West
There were no sweltering nights,
No fireflies to capture the eye
Or gleeful children giving chase
Few neighbors stroll the sidewalks
Rarely did generations gather
Backyards became the Thing
A framework of fences to keep others out
While guaranteeing privacy within
Patios, barbecues, decks, pools, ponds,
Gardens, hot tubs, and outdoor furniture
If we hadn’t done away with outhouses
One could have lived for months back there
At least until the weather turned
The shift complete, we settled in
Comfortable, safe, secluded
Until Television drew us near
To huddle by the hum and glow
Of the box in singular focus