We moved in, unsuspecting:
Proud husband, radiant bride,
1950s ranch with finished basement,
The American Dream incarnate.
Our first summer, it leaked a little,
And we played in the dirt around the siding,
Hoping to shore it up
Against the autumn rains ahead.
One October night, the sky burst overhead.
In the morning, we visited the ruins:
Soggy books, muddy carpet, ruined furniture,
The detritus of misplaced confidence.
Noises From the Machine
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