For Sale – or Who Needs a Separate Poetry Blog

Took the kids to the playground today.  I had this percolating in my head a bit as it portends an upcoming event.  So let’s switch to a center alignment and get into the first poem I’ve churned out in a long time.  I’ll let you analyze without comment from me in the comments section:

For Sale

It’s empty.
Never realized it had this much space.
Even in the early years when there wasn’t,
And I took up less;
Since we filled it with people and noise
And life and stuff and time.
Hey, there’s the wall where your ass went through,
And over there I punched a hole.
And you had that pissy little bedroom,
And mine was here,
And the living room was in the dining room,
And the stairs were straight.
And there were apple trees out back.
No hills, no water,
No places where the dogs were laid to rest.
No construction.
No destruction.
No doors eating fingernails
Or holes in the floor to deal with dead rats.
All my life
for sale.

About patrickmspeaks

Father, tech-head, political sage, and the Illustrious One of (little) 3x2 fame, I have been blogging for a few years now, and want to stretch in new directions, discover new things, and redefine redefining just for the fun of it. Nonetheless, having produced a pointless paragraph about me, I'll stop before something bursts.
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