Apartments: A Poem
One house, multiple units
Close to Sherman and Washington
A dirty yellow color, it has since been painted. Reality: it needs to be condemned
We lived upstairs and in the back unit-two different moments in life
My ET light blanketing my dreams
Many memories remembered and forgotten and made up
The back concrete slab, a gash in my forehead.
The throbbing in my wound as I still played in the dusk. The smell of summer enveloping my dizziness.
The neighbor showering me with dirt and dust, or was that me showering him?
Scared of the repercussions of hide-and-seek
Falling down the stairs at the curve of the bottom stairs, from sheer terror of the bad I had done
Getting thrown across the room from anger? But what did I do?
Adult parties, were there really parties? Did the police show up or was that a dream of sorts?
Are these real memories? Choppy, yes. Real, maybe, who knows