Eviction Notice

Wood and windows, roofs and doors

They changed every so often

Dragging bins full of my favorite toys

Across shaggy-rugged floors

Memories left behind…my heart became harder to soften

I remember cans of beer strewn across the porch and the smell of roaches mixed with cigarettes as I ran out to explore the yard. Just a young boy, 5 or 6 years of age, scared of ants - tiny ants! - made me cry

The childhood mark of home, to me

Marked only by memories of tragedy

My first home I remember is where I lost my favorite Uncle, just 18

My next favorite home that I recall, marked in memory by running over our family cat a mere 2 weeks after she had given birth to 2 kittens

Oh the kittens? They’d live

We had little more than our love to give

Bottle-fed by just kids

With little more than our love to give…

You see…as it is to many, “home” was never really a place to me. I made my home amongst the dirt paths, creatures, creeks, and climbing trees. Growing up with 5 siblings, home was always full of noise. I often found my home away from my parents and siblings - 3 girls and 2 boys.

Even as I grew to manhood, I continued on the trend

I only found one place that felt like a home…until my marriage came to end

So now I find home in my writing, in my music, and on the road

I’ve learned that home is where your soul smiles

No need for foundations made of stone

My home licks my face to wake me up no matter where I choose to lay

My home is energy in motion, under the suns rays, and skies of grey

My home is sound waves from my music, watching crowds of people dance

My home is nostalgia, presence, and hope

Oh! And by the way - I am no longer afraid of ants.