Bumpy old brick
Turn the corner and then drive past the sign
Dead End
Mystery garage, next to the gardens
Four gardens filled with dying plants
And Mom’s all green and growing
Well-watered
Down the path with the curlicues
Little green vine-things on the way to school
To twist on my fingers while Dan yelled,
“Hurry Up!”
Past the sandbox filled with trucks
Avoid the hornets’ nest
Even though they’ve been dead
Twenty years
Climbing up to peek out of the blue tarp
Looking at the lawn and wondering
If there’re still bits of chopped-up grass snake down there
Lawn-mower roadkill
Go through the back yard that always smells
Of a Thanksgiving weenie roast
Stooping by the back door, looking for treasure-hunt pennies
Scattered there
Onto the old mattress for cuddling during tornadoes
Twirling like a ballerina in Mom’s old shoes,
Dad’s old shirt, and a plastic tiara until I’m dizzy,
Collapse
Head upstairs to the room I shared
The queen bed I shared with Jen
Even after she left me there to sleep
With it on fire
The big blue house in
Still lives in my memory
Even though now
It’s gone
Andy’s mom doesn’t live kitty-corner ‘cross the street
Most of the trees are gone, making the path sunny
You can see down the hill to the street
And the gardens are no more
The backyard playhouse removed
Gone like they never existed
Cigarette smoke has replaced the memory of
Charcoal in the barbeque
And the house sits empty
A realtor’s sign in the front yard
And it’s not even blue anymore
It’s puke green
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