by Glen Martin Fitch
I'm back.
I dread returning to a town.
I rented there once.
That has a new door.
And there I worked.
This block is so rundown.
I said. “I'll never step back
in that store.”
I crashed a party there.
That's new, to me.
Those folks divorced.
Their neighbors moved away.
I guess that lady died.
They closed her bakery.
Remodeled.
Gone.
That's here till Judgment Day.
New cities never frighten me
because I re-create myself.
But could I here?
So few remain
who might recall my flaws.
Could I forget my past?
No, ever near are haunt houses.
I know every ghost.
The ones with my own face
I dread the most.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011