Читать книгу Patient Zero - Tomas Q. Morin - Страница 9

WEEKEND HOME

Not like any of the solemn ones on the cape

sitting empty week after week on those

ice-bitten January streets one can never find

in summer magazines and I am tempted, as with

so many things, to say a house can grow

a conscience when no one is around to slam its

wooden tongues and I wonder if it’ll miss

the romantic declarations of our long nights

spent sobbing and roaring, promising the end

of the end of love, and how I so wanted to see

the face it made when we slowly pulled out

of the driveway for the last time I never

shared out of meekness until now; was it a Garbo

pleading for adoration or a wrinkled Rimbaud

for melancholy, because with much effort

we had done what we do best and put away

another season of anger in the books, made healthy

our tab with another debt we could never repay.