Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Short Walk To The House That Doesn't Feel Like Home

I cowered my head in front of the house where I grew up
as I walked the street out front in the 28 degree weather

My breath came off
like fresh cigarette hits blown out too early
and all I could think about is
how evil I must be
for not taking any appreciation
out of having this house to shelter me
from what shakes me to my core
beneath this suade looking jacket of brown
with this black unbuttoned button-up shirt,
also of a suade-like lie texture and slightly parted
exposing a silly tee-shirt with all kinds of stupid shit on it
that I bought for seven dollars in one of those places
that loves to rip-off people in the poorer part of town,
just a few miles from this frozen street and this chill in the air
burning crisp down the back of my throat and inside my nose
while I gasp and think of the friends I feel I am losing,
the ones I've lost, the ones I disappoint,
on and on until I am sick with it

I stare at this house
and realize I've been standing here for five minutes,
not moving, frozen
like this pile of pine needles the mail lady's Jeep grabbed
with it's locked up, braking tire
as she slid to a stop to drop off my father's bills
and my hospital paperwork,
or maybe something from the government
about a check in my name
because people and I don't get along,
because I can stand in front of a place
filled with terrible memories,
imagine and remember many more that hurt me
beyond understanding,
I am a broken man

They say I'm crazy because I can stand here in the cold
and not feel a thing, because I'm back there with you,
or you,
or you who has someone reading this aloud to you
as you fake a smile and try to find a way to hate me,
pretending you don't know what I think of you,
thinking I don't care
because I refuse to allow hurt into my life
when I actually know my limitations
and that you exceed them,

I'm crazy because I still come back
through the door I'm staring at
and refuse your foot's attempt to get stuck in it,
as if I want you trapped here as well

I laugh it all off with the thought:

"Someone really should put a 'No Trespassing' sign out here"

and light up a cigarette like I've just given up,
because I think, sometimes, that I have


© 2010 William A. Robertson (All Rights Reserved)