The House on the Hill
It was modest yet distinguished
Gleaming white clapboards three stories high,
Green shutters and a turn-off driveway
To the huge garage that you knew
Without being told used to be
A real carriage house.
They were regular people
Mowed their own lawn
Didn’t send their daughter away to school.
She went to the town school
With us regular guys, and if
Her clothes were a little better
It was so subtle even the girls
Couldn’t find a way to be put off.
What she saw in me I can’t imagine
But I had her first, in the back
Of her Dad’s station wagon
A dozen times,
Another dozen times.
And then she went with Preston
Told him she was a virgin.
We giggled together over that.
She was pregnant by one of us
I was sure at the time.
Now I’m a little less sure
But whatever, he did the right thing
And married her, white dress and all.
They settled down,
I went away,
And it was twenty years
Before I saw her again.
She had lost three babies in a row
And her pretty body
Was sixty pounds heavier.
Preston was out of work.
I didn’t know what to say.
This is life I guess
In a small town, probably
It’s life anywhere.
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