yellowed, not from paint,
but
cigarettes
and breathing.
the stove.
age and time, taking
it's normal toll.
the sign in the yard,
for sale.
i should get rid of the clutter
she says,
pointing around the room,
to broken
chairs,
old magazines,
and
her husband on the couch
snoring.
it's time to get out of here.
he doesn't know
yet.
but he will.
have i shown
you the attic yet,
lots of room for storage.
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