Paper Planes

You check the locks on your door.

I do the same.

You never come to borrow sugar—

and I don’t think I’ll bother to offer you any.

We watch the same sunrise,

and maybe the same sunset,

unless we don’t.

Because I never see you on the verandah.

But I do, in my mind’s eye.

I’ve heard the shouts,

the screaming.

I wished I could help.

I wish I could make it my business.

The walls are thin here.

I send you paper planes sometimes.

Do you find them?

They ask if you are alright.

I hope you’ll send one back soon.