Homes Had

I used to think that home was the name of a street

Waverly, Inverness, Log Cabin

I thought it was where my bed was,

The coolness of my bed sheets after a long day of school

I thought it was the place I had broken into after school

The stirs of my siblings shifting foot to foot

As i untangled the locks, knobs, and doors

We had no other address to go

I thought it was the place of families of warm

Turkey dinners and hot cocoa

There was a fireplace and fire inside that place

Billows of black clouds,

Our kitchen never looked the same

Our tiptoes kissed the snow edges

The frills of pajama shorts jumped in the wind

That stretched the flames in front.

I used to think home was a clubhouse

Where whispers and secret handshakes took place

Like in the Lowe's commercials

Where hands really wandered playing house

Locked doors around mouths.

I thought home was a familiar face with

A sommelier grace

Where conversations lazily lie by

There was only the slurring of slurs

Tossed at playtime.

I still cannot tell you where home is

Maybe it is by the sea of deep leases

Its in the shadows of evictions

The boroughs of slumlord lawsuits

The bickerings of have a little bit mores.

Right now home is a familiar place

The rock and the hard place

Dream and demand

I do know that it is cold out here

Even with so many warm bodies

With no where to go.