you come home
to find
your door open,
the house
unlocked.
someone has been
inside living
your life
while you were
out. there
is a plate of
bacon and eggs
on the table,
toast with a bite
taken out.
orange juice
and coffee.
the newspaper is
open to the metro
section,
the obituaries.
there is a
picture of
you, but it
can't be you,
you are still here,
you are not
gone. you are
hungry and ready
for more life.
you yell up
the stairs to
see if anyone is
there.
you go from
room room but
there is no
one. this is
how ends, this
is how it
begins.
Monday, October 3, 2011
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