2016/summer

Summer,
day and night
the whir of the fan,
its tangled white cord
against the dark floor.
All week street crews
outside the window
digging up asphalt,
in order to relay it.
Jack hammering
sidewalks for curbcuts,
the historic street names
carefully removed to
be reset.
Maple, Deleware.
Our current street sign,
Maple and 8th in bright blue metal,
taken away this morning
we hope to prevent its theft,
until next week,
when they promise
it will all be
put back together,
including our irrigation
pipes, we hope, which water
the crape myrtle trees
the last owner planted.
Trees we water and
the city lays claim to.
Most of which are big enough
at last to withstand
the periodic vandalism
of some young thug
pushing it over to uproot it.
The trees with white blooms
are never as hearty,
but the deep pink ones
almost reach the power lines
and bloom profusely,
the same color as my
mother’s crape myrtle
outside my bedroom window
when I was a child.

8/5/16