reunion housewarming

hello the fluff
of the
written world,
mr. poetry.

you walked out the door
and forgot to hide the
lock key.

now inside,
i find the innards of used sweat,
bad contractors,
older kids,
blood from forgotten scabs,
the detris of beauty,
and my
foggy reflection in
the mirror.

as i traverse floor to
floor of
my
wonderful
abode of mr. poetry,
i forget
myself,
then remember myself
in lighter versions
of deja vu.

and as i ready to
rifle straight into
the spokes of
light
out of
the light of mr. poetry,
i hold up
short.

stop.

turn around
and come straight
back into
the
heartbeat tornado
to squeeze a little more
from the used lemon
rhine
because
that's how
we
fix
things
around
this
house.