The New Basement

there used to be a pool
table down here. purple
felt. a rack of nine,
sticks and balls.
albums on the wall.
a man cave, not really,
just a walk
down memory lane,
that's all. guy stuff.
a fishing rod,
a stack of wax.
a phonograph. a bowling
bag without a ball.
the big green couch
where diane and I got
busy once
or twice under the haze
of pina coladas.
the pillows stuffed
and soft
behind us.
the books stacked
in the corner. cobwebs
in the corners.
empty glasses.
a stereo bought long
before. an empty
wine bottle.
a bracelet on
the floor.
shoes. a basketball.
the closet full of tools
and nails, screws.
a bike, lamps and a box
of photos, the kodak kind.
it's not like that anymore.
things have
changed. it's as clean
as an operating
room now. the past is gone.
shiny white and antiseptic.
people have come, then hit
the road.
it's a new world.
fresh paint, fresh flowesr,
new carpet. it's no longer
just a room,
it's a home now. a warm
place to be with
someone that i love,
and who loves me,
or to be alone.