Magpie Tales 37

There is a history of going

and coming—

of pleasing and displeasing—

of knocking on wood

and crossing fingers

and Late Night

with and without David

Letterman.

There are vague memories

of Here’s Johnny and

nights turned away

and nights…

nights so hot we could not

stand to touch and

others so hot the sweat

was the conductor of electricity

the completed circuit

that rode between two bodies

too wrapped up in each

to hear the pitter patter

of little feet

that

may

or may not

have been outside

the door.

The walls know more

than the disarray can tell.

But walls are the great depositories

of secrets. They hold

on to things we never knew

and things too

we let go of.

©2010 – Michael A. Wells - All Rights Reserved

Magpie Tales 37