To the New Owners….
You will be relieved to know that I dont really have
a dead roaming brother in the basement.
Nor is there a half frog half man creature in the pond
who likes to eat little blonde pig tailed girls.
I am fairly certain you won’t see anyone wearing a hockey mask
and carrying a butcher knife on your porch at night.
Though you might hear the faint echo of my Dad
screaming at my brother for doing that to us during my slumber
Don’t stand on the railing of the spiral staircase
thinking you’re a professional surfer and slide down it on your
My brother did that and survived,
but he is more than a little insane.
In case you were wondering who made all those crayon scribbles
on the closet wall– they were from me.
I wanted to be a writer like my mother
and fortunately she laughed and left them there.
You should’nt have any problems with the house.
My dad did it all himself. Design, and long hours of hard labor.
His moto was “If you want it done right
you have to do it yourself.”
For that reason
if you ever see a strange car slow down near your home
then drive off, don’t be alarmed.
Sometimes I need reassurance that the past is still present
even if only briefly.
I would have given you the house for free–
if I could have one more day with my family.
They are all either dead or don’t talk to one another.
So much sorrow has grown from roots who became rivals.
No matter how enticing the past looks in the present–
sometimes there’s no place like home.