when I was eighteen I used to break open the back door around midnight
leave the windows unhinged just in case my father woke up and checked the locks on the doors like he sometimes did
I’d walk slowly down the hollow streets
past the house where they sold weed
past the house where they did harder things
past the firefighter’s house to the house across the street from the elementary school
through the back door that opened to the laundry and a woodshop
turned left to the kitchen
right to the hallway
then left to climb into his bed
sometimes we’d just lay there and it was nice to be someplace where I was wanted
even just for an hour or two
then I’d leave
walk slowly down the hollow streets
crawl through my parents’ bathroom window and back into my sheets
trying to convince myself that I was wanted here too