Grandma’s House – Part I
Looks like a palace from the street,
ranch style monstrosity stretched out
taking up half the block—glitter mixed
into white stucco walls
with red trim, gleaming like Pretension
in the Las Vegas sun.
Green trees lean their elbows
on Spanish-shingles
and talk to each other about leaving.
It’s dark in there. Secrets like it better
in the dark; secrets so dark
even the shuttered windows shudder.
Looks like money from the inside,
Room after room after room
thrown out like dice;
women in three-digit numbers—
their whole lives now a gamble—
ambling in and crawling out…
… empty.
The resident ghost suddenly stricken
with interminable insomnia
leaves the master bedroom and laughs
his face off
about the house,
jilted.
He floats around like he’s only slightly wilted.
Boy, if those splattered walls could talk…
but his ex-girlfriend just put up paneling.
Besides, everybody knows
the house always wins.
Looks like back to back business as usual
taking cash, fist under hands,
all that dirty money
in the bank.
That is,
until the phone starts squealing,
They’ve found you… they’re coming
get out… go right now…
So they do, barely
enough time
to pack
their secrets.