at midnight
slow, sad songs
in the cemetery.
nobody can see us,
but they can hear us.
(old irish songs,
lullabyes for the underground)
i miss all of my old loves.
basement #3
everything you can imagine
including
a mysterious and evil woman
living under the stairs.
banjos, guitars
and newspapers from the day after Kennedy was shot.
a dart board with too many holes
and a thousand little bottles of liquor.
A wall of pictures. Everyone in our family
and everyone in their family
pinned up to the wall
in black and white and sepia.
Cigarettes. I love the smell of cigarettes
because it is the smell of
the basement.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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1 comment:
There certainly were alot of memories in that basement! Even on the other side where the wash machine was and the window above the wash tubs. That's where I used to sneak in and out while everyone above was sleeping.
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