the avocado green chair
sat empty in the garage.
the smell of gasoline lingered.
there were remnants of the brick
house; barely attached to the garage
now. no windows were left,
just shards of glass, where
once we stood waiting for
him to come home. we knew
what kind of night it was going
to be by how long he was in the
garage. happy nights he would
sit in his chair fiddling with old
engine parts. bad nights we would
hear the chair get kicked on the
way in. the smell of alcohol filling
the room with his presence. all we
could do was stare at the paint chipped
ceiling and pray for it to end soon.
those were the nights we wished
we lived on another hemisphere.
the friday five were avocado, hemisphere, gasoline, ceiling and brick