We
shared
common
knowledge of
the love shack before
owning its
allure
and
charm.
Henderson’s splintered hut stood in shambles; its weathered
cedar planks fastened with rusty
horse nails hardly bit
into old,
rotting
joist
beams
and
studs
that fed
wood beetles,
housing cock roaches
some three & sixty-seven years
before violent gusts blew its tin roof across the yard.
The
cool
modest
transient
hut sustained ideal
canoodling
and young
love
trysts.
