Thursday, August 20, 2015


Tonight I sit inside a noodle restaurant
it used to be a Mexican burrito place and
before that, in the 90’s it was a Wendy’s.
It gives me the same feeling I have when
I sit in my living room in my big brown chair
a place I’ve lived for about a dozen years.
Others lived there before, sat in the same spot
watching TV, arguing about paying the bills,
raising kids, putting up Christmas trees,
painting the walls their favorite colors,
rolling out carpet to make it warm and cozy.
In another twenty years, someone else will
call this place their home and they’ll paint
the walls their favorite color and buy a new rug.
They’ll be out front watering the hydrangeas
that I planted along the driveway and raking
up all the leaves the way we used to each fall.
One day, when I’m gone, the postman will deliver
a piece of mail with my name on it, somebody will
glance at it, read my name, toss it in the trash
and say, “must be the guy who lived here before”.

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