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The Pink House on Wilmes Dr [Dec. 13th, 2010|01:06 am]
There are look-pretty plates with pictures of kittens on the kitchen wall:
to the right of the window, a kitten sips from a faucet
to the left of the fridge, another sniffs at a rose.

There are magnets from Tyler, TX and Jacksonville
holding up a photograph of a little girl and a little boy
riding horses at the fair.
There’s funnel cake dust on the camera lens,
so the memories look like memories in movies do.

I sit at the kitchen table and circle my fingertip along the rim of my tea-glass.
I sat at the kitchen table and got my haircut by mother once.
She put tape on my forehead,
but she still didn’t get my bangs right.

I’m trying to remember if the screen on the backdoor was always so gaping.
The ivy on the gate is much taller than me now.
The zinnias I planted have long been overtaken by weeds
and the old blueandyellow swing-set has rusted.

I wonder if the new kids will be able to swing over the bar
like I never could.