i drove to my father’s house
in Massachusetts.
a group of us made a large
dump run for my step-mother.
we even pulled the old pool table
out from the basement.
i held onto one end as a neighbor
cut it in half so we could
fit it into the trailer
i felt a bit sad then

after everyone left
i stayed with my step-mother
and listened to some of
my father’s music
he was damn good
but gone now

i walked into each room,
a house i lived in
as a small child,
and walked around the yard.
so much had changed
but everything was the same

eventually i loaded my truck and
drove home on streets filled with
traffic, but i only saw blank and
empty faces, gawking and waving
unhappily at slow drivers

i wonder if they know they’re alive

-M. Taggart

These empty streets

Reblogged from -M. Taggart’s blog mtaggartwriter