The House on the Corner
I walk through the concrete jungle
And I stare at the towers
I know, somewhere, there’s a place for me
A tug at the waist
A small voice asks
“Sir, can you help me find my home?”
Though I still search for my own
“It’s the house on the corner,” he says,
“The only one like it around.”
“It should be easy to find,” I reply,
“Since there’s no other the same.”
His expression a cruel mix of innocence and shame
We walk for miles on end,
But the houses are all the alike
The same color, same design
Down to the same bone strewn yard
There are no corners on these roads,
Nowhere do they intersect
The boy takes the lead around mile three
“I think I remember the way,
If you’ll see me there?” he says
Carelessly I follow
In the distance there is a boneyard on the right
It sits on the single corner of Abandon and Hope
The sign over the arch reads,
“Heaven’s Acres, open all night.”
The gate approaches ant the boy veers
Must be looking to get home soon,
The city is frightening in the failing light
Happy mausoleum, as the boy opens the door
And I read my epitaph
“Was loved, will love no more.”
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