Jake's Flea Market

there’s horizon where memory begins
yesterday
i stopped at the old place on forty third

the house was bulldozed years ago
the last traces hauled away

and yet it vaguely sits
on the farthest horizon

i’d point a finger
but i know you see it too

from here the paint
on the old wood siding looks cracked
peeled faded yellowed
or yellow i’m not sure

show me the colour of the roof
the shape of the gable
the size of the windows
the door you came out through
as one child and went in through
as another

i can’t see the yard to search
for the last things you saw
before you were taken
nor for the first things you saw
after you were returned

there is no yard

it must’ve faded must’ve disappeared
into the horizon

look for mom or dad or mel or alice
as they were the day you departed

they would’ve been the same the day you returned

they’re all too small to be seen from here
or they’ve all gone off somewhere beyond the horizon
or they’re all gathered inside the house that isn’t