Thursday, June 2, 2011

Home (early 2010)

Home
The pot boils, the pan sizzles. A dog barks
   This house is not my house, but it is my home.
      Lounging on the couch I breathe. My chest surges up and down.
The dogs’ paws clip on the hard wood, the rhythm matches my own beat.
        Children scream, the adults chatter, the TV blares.
   I can’t think above the noise, but even in this chaos it’s still a memory. It is still a time to store inside the box labeled: Good Times.
The children and animals are shooed outside.
                       The TV clicks off.
   The pot boils, the pan sizzles, a child screams
This house is not my house, but I am home.

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