dinner tonight
the last of the old chips.
frozen chicken and corn.
mustard to lubricate
and salt
and beer.
company tonight
all of the old movies that i have already seen,
some from way back,
i remember them all.
when i was young,
i would set and gaze,
on breaks from school,
saturdays,
sundays.
the sound aside from that,
between the commercials
and the action of the cheap,
is the rain and wind,
seemingly set to tear down the buildings out here on the west side.
i imagine the echo of steps in the hall
to be the sound of feet
on the golden bricks.
i imagine i might wake up in my old house,
play in my old yard,
talk to the old friends
and the long lost family that has drifted so far.
back to the beer,
movie,
wind,
if i am brave enough,
i might step out into the gale
for a sip somewhere in the neighborhood.
it seems like this should be lonely,
especially for christmas,
but for now i feel blessed and warm.
when you drift around
for enough years,
it doesn't take much
to make you feel
right
at
home.