eulogy of a yellow house

they have torn down
every building
in which you exsist
for me...

i stood on the sidewalk
of 63 russell street
in stunned loss and dismay...
it was gone
all that stood in its place
was a plot of ground

like an idiot
i looked all around
trying to get my bearings
my moorings
then i burst into tears
on the sidewalk
right in front of the where the front step was
where we were sometimes allowed to play

all of my memories of summer
invariably come back to that house
the way the sun comes through the leaves of the trees
the smell of hot black pavement
mixed with fresh cut grass
and the sound of people in other yards in other houses on other streets
penny candy
the first cake i baked on my own
the first time i found out what certain bad words meant
how i learned that big cars that run like they are on air
make me carsick...

how can that be
that you have been gone
from me
for this long...