I live in a cavern
hallways extending in all directions
Andy Warhol's a woman with red lips
dangling garishly off a too large cement wall
dappled in light from windows as high as prison walls.
a lonely silence is occasionally punctuated by the clatter
of pots and pans from a distant kitchen, who is cooking?
I am alone.
where is my house?
the one dressed in yellow, dahlias gracing south facing windows
who lives there now?
creeping up a fire escape to a small window to my bedroom
I peer inside
the neighbors frown at the new occupants
weeds outgrown flowers, sidewalks unshoveled
sidewalk cracks.
I do not comprehend how this has happened
this dream of moving, the nightmare
wake me up
please.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment