Closet
Mark L. Hoffmeier
Back to a
place I could call
home...
Throw down the suitcase
and put on
the part of me
that hangs in
the closet...
next to the
Blue and White cap and gown I wore only once,
when I said goodbye...
pull that part
of me off the
hanger and
wear it to the homecoming dance.
all smiles and handshakes
and hugs
and lost time...
open a beer on the trunk latch
of my father's car (we forgot to bring
an opener)
Talk about the high school
girls we used to want...
and imagine them
walking down the hall.
a drink to the guys we used to know,
"Ya, he's at Fort Dix now..."
Joke and
laugh
and say over and over:
"Shit man, those were the best..."
and when the clock strikes 2
like mice who
run from the ball
we go back.
back to hang our hugs and smiles
and handshakes
in the closet; let them sit until next year,
when time comes to steal another memory
and I say "What is her name?"
and think about the early
morning beers I'll have...
when I pull me out of the closet
again.
and I say goodbye, to that place.
I could call home.
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