home [ ] home

All I remember are the pine trees and rose bushes
The thrill of sledding down its street in winter
And sucking icicles broken off its roof
Sky blue outside and sunshine yellow in the kitchen

Then one day, uprooted and flying
Across rivers and mountains
to the suburbs of the Alamo City
and a two story building with a chocolate brown door
piles of newspaper where the bar should be
the yellow cabinet that needed rubber bands to close
and an ancient coffeetable breaking under the
weight of Reader’s Digests and Astrology Monthly
eight years of peanut butter and banana sandwiches,
homework on the floor, spurs games on AM 1200
and papers typed on a commodore 64

until an invitation comes from a red brick city on a hill
to live and learn and blossom
in the care of manicured greens and an 11:1 ratio,
a secret garden and magic stones
for inspiration

finally, culmination and starting over
four blocks west and two to the north
with scratched wood floors, window units and dear sisters
six months of memories to cherish

before a painful mid-winter move
to a cavernous white space with cold empty walls and
plates of isolation eaten up by activity and independence
for 525,600 minutes

and then packing and driving my life to
another second story space, a haven shared with
sea green dishes, Bono, eggrolls, and Ireland
(gifts of common life with Amy)
until another November, another search for abode
leads me to a yellow castle nestled on a downtown island
two years of bliss where plants reminiscent of youth
grace a forest green porch
mosaic tile on the bathroom wall
And a cream colored door won’t lock on its own
Keys thrown on a bureau that’s seen better days
Laying on a couch colored with all the emotions of life
Memories envelope my heart. -pjn 12/22/05