The Porch

In New York,
We didn’t have a porch,
But if we did,
We’d have called it a stoop,
A place to hang with the fam,
A neighbor or friend,
Share a joke,
Bum a smoke…
Gossip and watch
The ‘hood for new scoops.

The South, so I hear,
Calls them verandas…
A long slow-moving word,
Like a lazy afternoon
With pitchers of lemonade,
Sweet summer courtships,
Over too soon.
The love seat meant for two
Creaks softly as night comes early.

We had a balcony in Queens,
Beach chairs on a slab of concrete,
Heard all the neighbors’ fights…
Gazed down on city lights,
Couple of plants,
An ashtray for my father,
And then we moved to the ‘burbs.

Finally a patio!
Porches in the backyard–
No one knows what we’re up to.
You can sunbathe nude,
Not that you would
(But you could).
Front yards are quiet, empty;
We grill and chill in private,
Neighbors by invite only.
We don’t miss the porch
We never had.

9 responses to “The Porch

  1. Wow, I just learned something new! I didn’t know a porch was a stoop. I always thought the single concrete step that went down to the sidewalk was the stoop. Or even the curb that went down to the street. That’s what we called it when I was young. I guess when you don’t have a real full-on stoop, you make do! I remember enjoying the solitude of sitting on the stoop by myself on a cool night.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Delightful!


  3. I felt transported to all those places as you were describing them, very evocative, wonderful!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Absolutely delightful

    Liked by 1 person

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