the stars at night

I used to live there.
I say,
pointing out the window
at a cluster
of brick houses,
stuck together like
thick slices
of bread. a man with a dog
is sitting on the porch
next to a lidless
metal can.
my window was right above
that crab apple tree,
I tell her, pointing
upwards to where a board
has replaced the glass.
at night,
when it was too hot
to sleep
i'd climb out and sit
on the porch roof
with my pillow, i'd
lie down and watch
the stars.
we keep driving.
she doesn't say a word
as we turn the corner
and wait for a crowd
of young men to cross
the street. she checks
the lock on her door
and rolls up the window.