About me living by myself. It is too much for someone else.


You Can't See Me

My friend's thinking I must be lonely , Cause I'm, living on my own.
Last year was when I parted,
I ain't coming home.
Me living by myself is too much for somebody else,
But, not to much for me.
It's not me, who can't see,
It's me who he can't see.
I can still smell the fresh paint when I first walk in,
I close the door behind me,
And turn the dead bolt to lock it.
I take off my shoes,
And say good night to my friend,
If I'm, talking to her that day.
I lay my head on my pillow,
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
The crow of an electronic rooster,
Wakes me from my sleep.
The sun has risen in the east,
It is time for me to get up for the day.
I take off my clothes that I wore the day before,
And put on a different pair.
I brush my teeth,
And comb my hair.
Performing daily tasks isn't a struggle,
Even before.
The only thing that prevents me from leaving the house,
Is my brother hiding my shoes.
Funny,
But true.
My pantry isn't empty,
There's food, sauces, and sugar.
Black pepper and salt.
Garlic and oil.

I put on my shoes, and head out the door.
I close it behind me, and lock it.
I press the button, to call the elevator,
And wait for it to meet me.
It opens it's door, and I step inside.
I press the button for the basement floor, and down I go,
I step out of the elevator, and walk to the entrance,
I push open the door, and step outside.
It clicks behind me, and off I go,
Tapping my cane back and forth on the sidewalks of Seattle.
I get to the corner, press the button,

And wait for the cycle.
Then I cross with the traffic,
It starts again after I get to the other side,
Until somebody else presses the button, Waiting for their turn to cross.
I walk pass the bus shelter, and make a left after the first walkway.
I climb up the few steps,
A sliding door opens automatically.
I walk inside, and swipe my card across the second door,
It clicks, I turn the knob and I pull it open.
I walk inside, and walk to the elevator,
I press the button to call it,
The bell rings, and the door slides open.
I step inside, and press the button for the first floor,
The building is put together backwards.
It's just another day at school.
I start my morning off with my fingers on the keyboard of a computer,
I end my day pounding in nails and sawing wood.
I might be pushing a shopping cart,
Depending on the day, but it's back to apartment 308.
There's the scent of fresh paint as I enter,
My bed is a few steps down the hall,
Waiting, for me to come rest.
The rice cooker sits on the countertop,
Utensils and dishes sit in the kitchen sink,
Waiting, to be washed.
Others sit in the drawers and pantry,
A first aid kit sits on top of the refrigerator,
In case blood is drawn.
A few drops were drawn but only once,
But ,,not, from the digits of my palm.
It was from my finger,
I can't remember if it was from the blade of a knife,
Or from the jaws of a pair of scissors,
But I wrapped it up.
The fixture hangs over the kitchen table,
Four chairs are gathered around the table,
But only one soul sits down to eat.
The voices and images on the television set play in the living room,

The street lights, yellow and white,
Watch over my apartment and anything else they illuminate.
I'm done with dinner,
So it is time to put away the plates.
If I could go anywhere right now,
I'd go back to my first place.
I've never seen my mom that happy before,
A half a dozen roses says it all,
Congratulations and everything else.
Thanks for the flowers, Mom,
I miss Gennesey Park.




Poetry by Vanna "Smokie" Song
Read 723 times
Written on 2006-08-25 at 22:50

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