this was my life

the attic
is where I am today.
i'm into the basement too.
the deep
corners of closets I haven't
peeked into
in forever.
i'm digging into coat pockets.
finding
slips of paper,
notes in between the pages
of books.
cards and letters.
scraps with phone numbers on
them.
i'm reconnecting
with my past.
looking at old photos
and wondering what happened
to each and every one
of these young
faces still young by
kodak.
i'm in the attic.
sitting in an old chair.
I smell the rot of wet wood.
I hear the flutter
of bat wings,
the tapping of mouse hooves.
the boxes all around me
are open.
there is joy, there is pain.
this was my life.