pot roast

when you come in
the door, and throw
your hat down, take
off your coat
you smell something
in the kitchen, cooking,
in the stove. you had
forgotten that you
had a stove.
a dog comes up wagging
his tail. you don't
remember having a dog
either. you go into
the kitchen and open
the oven door to see
a pot roast almost
done, with potatoes
and carrots, onions.
a wave of heat and
the scent of succulent
meat rises
into your face. you
are suddenly warm
with memory. you are
at home. you are
loved afterall. you
are hungry and ready
for dinner. you see
the rolls on the counter,
the salad in the bowl.
there are plates on
the table. then you see
a stack of mail.
you pick up an envelope
and begin to open it.
but you see that it
is addressed to
someone else. your
heart sinks, you are in
the wrong house, but
you don't leave. you
wait for dinner. you
have been waiting
a long time for a meal
like this.