by Robert Scott Petranek
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Not rated by the Author.
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how much do we need? will it always increase?
Oh, I hear the louder ones laugh
And talk their sports scores
As they drink coffee with the daybreak
I watch them notch their heavy belts
and enter through the cavernous mouth
of what’ll soon be a three car garage…
How can all these young kids afford such things?
Then, they start a hammering and sawing away
workboots echo on the hollow floors
voices curse and voices call
and drills screetch
to twisted, all of the sudden
With my cats and coffee I sit,
in this little old pink two bedroom
sinking now in the cold shadow
of my neighbors-to-be
At my kitchen window now, there’s a wall
where these forty-odd years
I always liked to watch the sunset.
would I have ever imagined
a Mansion going up next door to me?
Who’s moving in? A king, and queen?
Here, on quiet Sunset street?
In nineteen seventy,
we finally saved up enough money
to put up a one car garage…
I remember the pride in Howard’s eyes
it was the weekend before
the fourth of July
We had a garden then, and no, it was’nt much
But the girls and me kept it perfect
My little sunburned Emmy would bring in green onions, and juicy bellpeppers
for me to dice them up into
the eggsalad sandwiches
I’d send along with Howard
in a brown paper sack,
back when he worked the railroad…
Now, the girls have long since
finished up school,
both have married off…
And the Diabetes took Howard in 93’
And mostly, all the old neighbors have passed, or moved away…
And again I hear those workboots clopping
and now I’m just waiting
for them to come up one morning
and pull a big, white sheet
over my house.
-RS Petranek 05/04/04
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|Reviewed by Gwen Dickerson
|Splendid write! Great reflection and depth, robert!|
|Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
|That is why I say that a home where love lives is a mansion and I can't live in but one room at a time.|
|Reviewed by D May (Reader)
|This visuals here are excellent. So much said in this write and the questions are worth pondering. Wonderful write.|
|Reviewed by Victoria Frakes (Reader)
|Very well done. Can actually feel myself sitting there.|