hole(y)

-
the rumble of an engine restarts my heart
its only 11pm
but it's only just begun
warm air fills my nose
as I open the door to run to you
throwing myself into a passenger seat
that feels like mine

a night ride through familiar streets
of a town, I called home
looking so quiet now
with the world being asleep
shadows catching the angles of a face
I never noticed before

a crooked laugh and careful feet
old stairs and uneven floor
you left the hall light on
and the dog out

trying hard to stifle a smile
as we enter like ghosts
unseen
but probably heard

looking up
I see the hole
looking back at me
from where it sits in the wall
and the faint smell
of long-forgotten cigarettes
and an empty whiskey bottle
dashed with dried Georgia clay

a foreign place
feeling so much like home
more so than where I rest at night
soft worn sheets
and tv on
brings me back to when
my house was actually a home

how do you do that to me

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