July 29, 2025: Places

I wrote this little poem in the last 15 minutes, while sitting in on a write-in with the prompt of imitating Joe Brainard. I've been writing a lot about nostalgia & place this week (but don't I always?). I definitely could expand it or edit it further but I'm worried if I don't put this up now, it will end up living in my Google Drive and nowhere else:

I remember the green benches at the table of the old apartment 

Sitting on the carpeted floor (or maybe it was wooden, I’m not quite sure) 

In the living room一where my dad slept when my sister and I took his bedroom on Sundays一

My now-stepmom braiding my hair, the kitchen speaker playing John Mayer 

Brady, the lab, in his crate in the bedroom, or playing with his Boxer friend downstairs, 

and, once, putting his large paws up on the counter to take a whole leftover steak, 

and, once, celebrating his birthday by baking him a vanilla cake

I remember as I look through the photos on my grandfather’s desktop, photos of my Sunday night apartment 

Which became a house on the corner, with a yard, a trampoline, a tree swing, and a Wawa down the street.