new homes

it is the equivalent
of going to the fire
station to seek help
after the house has
burned down, ashes,
embers, blackened timber,
and yet we go. what
else is there to do.
the office is above
the tax preparer and
insurance company, only
one floor below.
the sun has found it's
way in over the years
and lightened only
by half the furniture,
once blue and curtains
parted just enough to
see the traffic on a
busy route. our daughter
is in tow, and has found
solace in the darker
hues of her crayon box,
and colors madly,
ignoring lines, and
figures. she is jackson
pollack in a seven
year old's dress.
the marriage counselor,
in the final throes
of a long practice, is
happily inept, confused
at why such a lovely
couple has come to this
point in their marriage.
her feather light words
and advice fall aimlessly
to the worn shag carpet.
and together the three
of us tell our skewed
tale of woe, then
separately, and in six
months, with no change
and less money we go our
separate ways, thin
and wanting, desperate
to build new homes
to live in.