the man at the corner is gone

it goes like this
the schedule changes – is erratic
then the property gets real quiet, like sleep
some time goes by in dense silence

one day there are others
going in and out
carrying, cleaning, mowing the lawn

then there is emptiness
the shell sits as the spirit within empties into the ground or the sky or the trees
but he's definitely not there anymore
or she
they're gone

i see it

"The Dellabarbaras" it said on the sign even though she was gone a long time
he sat outside in front on a metal chair, his hands on his knees, in a y-front and shorts.
i waved.
he waved.
he always waved. he always watched me go by.

i will miss him.

i miss the couple on the end (two blocks down) sometimes and wonder how they are
she's really sick
so he sold the home to live with her in a place where they knew how to care for her
it's okay though.
a little family moved in, a divorced woman and her son
she's really taking care of the place
it looks great

i remember her in a black dress with lots of white tiny flowers, her hair lovingly coifed—a thick white cloud
she always talked to me
she had a lot of energy
he stood on a ladder winterizing air conditioners glancing at her over his shoulder
she and I talked about air conditioners

after they left i took pictures of their junk

farther away is where the medical student's mother used to be
she was gone a long time before they found her
the house has been on the market for a year
she'll never leave
the house still looks the same
the cast iron painted halloween cats lined up on the porch; a thin windchime hangs from the roof
fabric hangings pretend to be curtains
they'll have to tear that house down before she leaves

all i do is write about it