The House Gets Bigger After Four

My nephew said it like a weather report.

Been home all week, after school. No big deal.

I said cool. Yeah, cool.

Didn't say: I know the exact math of that.

The range hood light, the only one you leave on.

The refrigerator starting its cycle

at whatever hour it decides,

loud enough to make you flinch

the first few times.

The dark at the end of the hallway

that has a weight to it after six o'clock.

I ate cereal standing up.

Left the TV going in the other room.

Slept on the couch

because my bedroom was too far

from the front door

to feel like a reasonable place to be.

He shrugged and asked about something else.

I said cool again.

Went home that night.

Turned on every light in the hall.

Lay in bed listening

to the building settle.

Thought about the couch.

Thought about him on his couch,

the TV going, the range hood light,

not scared exactly.

Just doing the math.