School Day

 The paint peels

and the plaster falls

into the window sill.

The blinds are 

bent and forever

tied with a shoestring.

Carpet is grey

or threadbare

But this is John's home

of his memory

although he holds

no romance for it.

Not for now

But we tumble over

each other and can't

seem to get away

like those families

who slept in the same

one-room house.

Among the tree-tops,

the windows all thrown open

in early October.

The bus passes in the street below

with an exhale

and John pops in the front door 


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