The Long Walk Home

 

you slip into the alley

between the railway

and the ivy

 

the alley

leading home

to the never-ending

argument

 

look between the railings

 

there is a wetness that clings

to the surface of the leaves

the trees

the iron railings

 

even discarded

condom wrappers

have an abandoned

beauty

having lost all memory

of their former selves

 

you think of home

and of the sadness

clinging

like cooking fat

to the kitchen walls

 

your spirit slips

between the railings

curls up in the leaves

and dies

 

your body walks home

unseeing

toward the sadness

and the sadness

and the never-ending argument