We sat on the trespass side

Of the chain-link fence.

And got used to sitting there -

Next to the milkweed,

Fog residue facing

From the hilltop.

We felt big enough

To fill that empty lot,

Loose enough to balance

Beam our way across its

Old foundations.

We traced the outlines

Of a home there.

We broke the thicket

Of walls and doors.

We knew how young we had to be.