Another Stopover Town

This

is a kingdom of dead houses.

Round these parts the keys

have been passed from hand

to hand to

hand.

Today

they sit on

a keyring on a faceless

belt loop with no clue of

where they came from –

where they’re going –

another troupe of limbs with

a twenty year shelf life, some

bank’s indifference, the sodden

dirt after a storm.

Someone’s father was the first

to change the hinges on the

front door, but no one

remembers the color of the

paint.

The blue minivan, the

one always perched too close

to the stop sign at the corner

(never on the driveway)

(never on the driveway)

will take its last k-turn

out of the cul de sac on

Tuesday – a small vacancy

left in its wake. The neighbors

will wake up one morning

and realize they don’t

recognize anyone pulling into

their garages anymore,

and maybe they’ll feel

despondent enough to leave.

When people stop moving

in, no one will notice that

the basement floods when

it rains.

By Blue

Blue’s Instagram

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