there’s a closed dollar store next to the ice skating rink

with a perpetual “hiring” sign

and they tore down the bowling alley

i went every six months

with friends who sometimes just stood on the patterned carpet and crossed their arms,

who didn’t like changes of plans or the vending machine food

but i had my first kiss next to a pinball machine

and years ago i ate plastic-wrapped nachos with a girl no one talks to anymore

we squeezed in skates and held onto the bar, two chattering skins   

our home is our home

our home is our loves

and all my loves were dead before i could find them

and the house i was born in burnt to the ground centuries before i stepped in it

the lakes are dried up and the rooftops are closed

and we’ve got nothing left to want

all we’ve got is you