From the Fishouse

Because I was the paper boy,
I knew when everyone was
and wasn’t in town.

I stole for fun and for the small
heavy objects I could tell
wouldn’t be missed for a long while.

The looking in ticking rooms,
the discrete rummaging
in strangers’ closets and garages

in the early mornings
of the neighborhood
I kept for myself.

I gave my girlfriends cameras.
I gave my father power tools.
I gave my mother a stained glass watch.