I took a drive tonight

through the city of my past life
awaiting the arrival of a new beginning.

Take a left on fourth street
¨It’s that one there
the small yellow house,
with a half acre yard.¨

Memories suddenly flooded my mind,
building moats in the sand box, not caring
that she would yell for using the hose
and letting the water run too long,
Mom,

Canning homemade jam with the strawberries
we all picked the day before
I can still taste them, sweet
as the sun-warmed juice dripped down my chin.

I turn down the next street
and see her house
still with the same broken shutters
and untrimmed lawn
Alex

We say goodbye for the last time
I've finished packing up my life
we swore to see each other every weekend
to be best friends until the end, but
I never saw her again

From 2400 square feet of land
to 2400 square feet of problems
the biggest being in my innocent mind,
where the hell is the yard?

This house was old and huge
Five bedrooms, three siblings ,and I still
have to share a room
because mom needed
I mean wanted, two

I unpack the first box of my shattered life
and slowly begin to glue the pieces together
although they never quite fit right

it was just a matter of time
before the jagged edges started to grind
together like gears in a stick
when you forget to shift--
divorce

I remember that night like the back of my eyelids
how could I forget,
when they’re the same color.
Not again

It’s easy to be Christian
but not in a private school
when your parents have been separated-
twice, I hate my life
black

The color I dress in twenty four/ seven
to match the red lines
on my wrists and thighs
it's not a phase mom,
my pants fit fine

Up and out again
with my mom's new boyfriend
literally just down the street.
I call him number four and say to myself
let’s see how long this lasts,
I open box number two.

One year later it is over.
Not her relationship unfortunately
but the time we lived in that house.
I'm not mad, I hated it there,
or maybe I was used to it.

Five bedrooms, then four,
then three, and yes my sister shares
a room with me, but
I got my yard back.

Too little too late,
my brother’s twenty
I’m nearing seventeen,
We don't play kick ball anymore.

Still I smile, it took a while, but
I learned to breath under the pressure
of six tons of buried anger.
Sleep is welcomed here.

I think I'm finally ready to see
what might just be
in box number three.