Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Ben Franklin's Demise

The old five and ten,
Once all could be had
For a nickel or a dime.
Today I drove by
The place where
I used to while away time
After the Saturday matinee.
I was shocked to see a heap
Of wooden bones, remainder
Of my rites of passage.

Once I walked
The creaking floors,
Smelled the dust in the air,
Searched through rough
Wooden bins full of dreams.
Went with my mother for
An embarrassing fitting
Of a long awaited bra.
Carefully selected a first lipstick,
Clutching a quarter,
Dogwood Pink or Kiss Me Coral?
My sisters and I chose
The perfect gift set of
Evening in Paris for our Mom.

The grand old place
Now lies in pieces,
Gabled roof top,
Garret to the side,
High, tooled tin ceiling,
Double doors, worn shiny knobs
Display windows that once held
A sundress I yearned for,
And gazed longingly at
A life sized baby doll I coveted,
Now all joined
In a pile of the past.

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