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You Can and Can't Go Home

I'm a Prisoner Trapped Inside a

Little Rectangular Marvel

Which knows, to six decimal ...'s,

My position on Earth

 

And the irony is that...

Electronically found,

I feel lost.

 

Way before we knew about

Jeep *** EssSs...

I lived 300 miles away,

In a little town called

Bettendorf, Iowa.

 

Few days after last

Christmas.

I made the journey

Back. To the

Former.

Place I existed, survived,

Lived, thrived (albeit briefly)

 

I took my family with me.

Or, I went with my family.

The four of us in the same vehicle,

Anyhow.

300 miles in December.

There was snow everywhere

Else. Not on the road, thank

You.

 

You leave bits and pieces of

Yourself in the place that is

The home for your feet, blistered

And toe-stubbing sidewalks and

Your hands grasping frozen Gym-

Door handles on Minus 10 Saturdays

When you bundle up and slog 1.3 miles

To play Dodgeball all Saturday afternoon.

(And returning it's twice as cold and dark is

Edging its fangs over the dim, muted horizon)

 

You sweat in the summer. Profusely,

Drops of the stuff watering brown

Grass. You bleed in the snow,

Stark red on even pastier

White, though it feels

Painful only in the abstract.

Sometimes numbness is better

Than painness.

 

You get blisters from raking leaves

In that season that seems

To have gone palavering somewhere

East of here.

 

These fringes of leavings, like

The tiny toenail clippings you spy

As you use a foreign bathroom, balefully

Eyeballing someone else's Medicine

Cabinet of Curiosities.

 

So we went to the place

Formerly known as home.

 

You can travel a linear or

Non-line-like distance back

To the place where you cut

Your teeth on life, and life cut

Its own bicuspids on you, but fading,

Fading,

Only the shimmering

Ephemeral memory of an

Equally diaphanous memory

Of those teethmarks exist.

 

Or, succinctly put:

The past is dead.

Long live the passed!

(But not the vaporous

Kind)

 

Still, we pine for the earlier

Times, younger and much,

Much more innocent, gull-

Able, even: When time had

Not yet painted and varnished

Us so much, the years piling on

Our faces deeply and thickly,

Lined canyons of worry criss-

Crossing our brows, the feet

Of those ****** crows nestling

Where our eyes end in points;

The sagging, the

Lowering of once springly,

Spritely flesh. 3 chins.

Since when do I need two

Extra chins?

**** you, Gravity!

**** you to Heck!

 

We travel back on new

Roads over the great

Old ones that used to be

Concave asphalt trips to

Anywhere and Nowhere

Special, they all were, even

The ones that led to hilarious

Dead ends.

 

Wow! There used to be a

(Insert memory here)

But hey! Lookit that!

A Yarn Barn. Hmm.

 

And oh! I lost my

(Insert memory here)

In that very back parking

Lots of Tots? What kinda name

Is that for a Pre-School!

Open on CHRISTMAS? Whaaaat?

My hometown has lost

Its mind.

 

And then silence, as the

future that passed us by

Reasserts itself so strongly-

It might as well be screaming

At us from useless billboards

Selling crap we don't need.

 

This place is a foreign

Country to me. I don't know

When it stopped being home

And now, I really don't care.

Let's do this thing, family, this

Familial obligation, and then kick

The stupid dust from this town

Off our tailpipes.

Go, Bettendorf!

Go, Bulldogs!

Go, next-town-over!

Go on with your bad

Selves.

Because, people of these

Towns, in 30, or 25, or 12, or

4 years, you'll blink, and find

That you no longer recognize

The place you can't call

Home any longer.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
ted-scheck
54 / M / American
Published
Jan 13, 2014
Lines·Words
134·606
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