Friday, May 29, 2015

the house across the street ...

the house across the street ...

across the street
the giant elm trees
yawn in shady patterns
over the green-gone-brown grass
that has begun to creep
like a labyrinth of snakes
over the walkway
that winds from the street
to the broken front door
where yellowing bits
of newspaper crumple
into muddled piles
and the mailbox
overflows with
final notices
and some will tell you
she lives there still
but i know better

through all these years
she would emerge
sometime after dark
and walk the thiry-three steps
across the street
and into my life
her small hands
carrying sweet offerings
of succulent delights
that she would drop
on the kitchen table
before undressing
and leading me
to my room
to show me the way
to recovery

in the mornings
she would be gone
and never once
did i doubt
that she would return
the very next evening
until she stopped returning
and i guess
she must have thought
that i could carry on
without her
and i guess
the moment when
she believed i was finally whole
she lost herself
in all the pain
she took from me
back the thirty-three steps
to the house
across the street



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