The Blue House on Corey Street.
Allston, Mass.
I wonder who lives in there.
I wonder what their story is.
I walk a little further,
I walk a bit further.
Why was there a fence surrounding
That Blue House on Corey Street,
Already so ramshackle, dilapidated.
What could a fence do?
I pass another house
A bit further down the street,
On my side of the street,
The left, North side of the street,
Still heading Eastward.
I see one of those green,
Teeth-cleaning floss-picks.
No, it was blue. Or maybe
It was green, but my mind was still
Hung up on the outlandish
Baby-Blue, one-story house
On Corey Street.
Anyway, seeing this 21st century floss
Compels me to pick my head up;
There are better things to see in this world.
I look left.
A sedan.
I can’t remember the model, or the year,
And who knows whether there will be
More or less of this particular car-make
A couple years from now,
Granted all the tariffs implemented
Today, last week, last year.
A Nebraska plate
With an “Earth” sticker
On its left bumper.
I wonder if its owner
Traversed Eastward in this car
With the intention of staying
2, 5, or maybe 10 years.
Maybe more.
I wonder if this car will ever
Make the journey westward
In the direction of that
Blue House on Corey Road.
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