the house burned and walls fell
he and his friends rebuilt it
sweating under the hot summer sun
drinking bottles of cold beer
smoking cigarettes and telling tales
they joked the house would die again
wagered it would be by flood
placing a few bets no one would recover
then vanished after the project was done
their words proved true one hurricane season
the road and land itself were gone
but to this day in the tail of August
the scent of salt, beer, and smoke
and the murmur of laughing conversation
bring me back home and remind me
that houses are not meant to last
