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POEM: End of the line

End of the line

Your parents’ house is gone,
replaced with a larger,
less interesting version of
the suburban dream.
Four generations of your history
and someone knocked it down,
just like that.
I’m a sucker for a good metaphor
but c’mon.
Can I tell you the stupidest thing?
I ate a breath mint just before I arrived,
on the off chance you were also
making a stop on a farewell tour.
You weren’t, of course, more’s the pity.
Have you replaced me with a newer version?
I guess it doesn’t really matter.
I miss your folks, though. They were my
last remaining parents.
As I drove out of town I said
“Goodbye, Livingston,” aloud,
for what I assume was the last time.
Thomas Wolfe. What a bastard.

/ / /

23 January 2022
Livingston NJ &
Colonie NY

Thanks to CC for the title.

Published in Family My poems Poetry

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