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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