That Empty Lot on Cedar

That Empty Lot on Cedar


Guess you've left town.
The place you lived in is gone now too.


The shed in the back is the only thing left standing
and all the tools and paraphernalia too.


You left the kid's swimming pool.
And my bike.

The only thing of real value you left behind.

Dust just creeping over them.

Water from the ceiling pooling in the kiddy pool base.
Sludge rippling as I give it a tiny nudge.


The rest of the building is gone.
Don't know why they had to take it down.


Neighbours don't recall you leaving.
No van, movers,  forwarding address.


The one on the left has a box of bills and flyers that piled up.
She said she'd give it to me if only she could remember me.
I left it, no use paying for things of something long gone.


The only thing of real value I left behind.


She had her dog tied up in the back.
Right on our property.


I was so pissed off that she had that fucker
shiting and pissing on our lawn.


Then realized that
hell, this place isn't ours no more.
Not mine nor was yours shortly after.


The only thing of real value we left behind.


I traced out the lines of the foundation
as the dog barked at me.


Told that woman to take it indoors
but she just ignored me and left the porch indoors herself.


Looking at it again I wish we'd had a basement.
Grown a root cellar or something.
To keep it down.


Some where to hide when the shit came down.


The light is half burnt out on the left side of the street.
Decided to stay here till nightfall.


Packed some sandwiches and a beer.
A few juice boxes too since I have to drive back.


It's just around the corner
but it seems like forever since I've come here
since moving back.


The only thing of real value I could really remember.


Damn, most of these people's houses need residing.
paint's all chipped and weathered.


Thank god we moved.
If only I could remember where I misplaced you.


-Matthew Koutzun