Exit 286 in 1/2 mile
East till Adams Rd.
Windows will be facing north
waiting for curtains
waiting for the futon
covered in flower print
by the basil that keeps dying.
The sunshine will be the alarm-clock
and snow will be enjoyed
from beside the fireplace
with Hawthorn wittily expressing
this New England charm.
No more John coming in
through the southern window.
The Belgian brew and the Packers.
The garage full of projects
completed and appreciated.
Wood chips in the air (hair).
Or when Jill kicked in the door
and shot all the bullets
of a nerf gun into little Jorden,
and Jorden ran back with
the garden hose to have his revenge.
All that is left is
Exit 286, east to Adams,
Turn write.
Author notes
I always feel cheesy when I am writing out of things that are actually going on in my life. But, the moving process has been bothering me and I don't know where I live when I am between homes. There are no memories, just possibilities in the destination, and there are seems like only stagnation and memories in the origin. Only the car seems familiar. And Adams comes from one of my favorite writers on travel, Douglas Adams, author of "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". Thank you for reading.
A contest entry
- Where is Your Home? by Cinnarry.
1750 points, ended October 24, 2007, 13 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Tell me what you think
Comments
-
This is so rich in its mundanesness that it quite surprises the reader with the very intimate details of a mere thought process. I love it.
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