Breadcrumb #95


up the cracked steps yet again
to the house I know so well
so well I know to knock before walking in

and wipe my shoes then take them off
cross the little living room with pictures
turned away from the room on the mantle 

pictures reversed retched into my mind
that same old woven cane chair with one
leg a quarter inch short in the middle of the room

so when I sit in it and pick up that book I’ve read
a thousand times on sleepless nights with
the living room clock keeping time 

the chair tips back and to the left
just slightly
so it is impossible to settle in

reading the same words pried from my mind
set on the page for me to read
again and again

staring into the eyes of the pictures
or at the words
looking through me

again I’ve walked into a room of my own making
sat in the familiar furniture unsteady

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