the long way home

you take the long
way home,
through the park,
near the water,
up across
the boulevard.
there is no rush,
nothing urgent
pressing you
to get through
the door and throw
your keys down
and say i'm home,
no dinner
in the stove,
no dog to walk,
no boy waiting
in the window.
just mail on
the floor, fallen
through the slot.
you take the long
way home, as
the days get
shorter and the
nights get longer.