Summer Home in Winter

Posted: June 24, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

I tore a picture from a magazine today.
It reminds me of the feeling I get
when I’m with you and
you don’t like me very much.

It’s a porch leading to nowhere,
and the house it’s attached to is old.
It’s a lonely porch, bare and wooden.
I can imagine slivers in my feet
because it’s the kind of place
you wouldn’t wear shoes.
There is some white-yellow sand
and a plant of the kind that grows on beaches.
But I don’t think it’s warm in that picture.
I imagine that it’s a summer house,
deserted, in the wrong season.

I feel like that house; drafty and cold,
my front porch leading nowhere.

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