I have returned, as Gene did to his schooltown.
It is not raining, but cold. So I will
Always remember it. Under trees and
Eaves lay piles of snow, plowed out for the cars.
But the lot is emptier than ever.

And each place I see brings a memory,
A thousand individual shards of
Some shattered past I can call back, piecemeal,
But can't have whole again.

I stroll down
The sidewalk where I tripped and fell in ninth
Grade, almost breaking my leg. Worse than the
Pain, of course, was the humiliation.
I was red-faced and so were my friends, but
For different reasons. Now, it brings a
Smile to my face, but back when every
Event could make or break my tiny world,
It was as if the sun had set for good.

I turn my eyes to the gym, where my friends
And I graduated. We never thought
That day would ever come, but there we were,
Blue gowns and caps on our heads, throwing them
Into the air. Some of the girls cried, and
Some of the guys probably wanted to.

The sky darkens and soon the dusk light is gone.
I saunter past windows that now are dark,
Because it's Sunday, but also because
Never again will I hear the bell ring,
Voices of friends, and crushes, and teachers
Faded forever from my life. They come
To me, occasionally, radio
Received, bounced off of high-flying clouds, but
The memories are nothing to real life.
All I can see in the glass now is my own
Reflection. The windows hold nothing but
The world outside. Inside is lost to me.

Slowly, as it often does in this town,
Snow begins to fall. Each flake disappears
As it hits the ground. How many of my
Memories have done the same thing in turn?

I quicken my pace, hastening to my
Car. I turn around one last time, take in
The place I spent so much time long ago.
Then, every second seemed to be
So important. The school was always warm,
And it was always lit. Now, its windows
Are dark, ever so dark. That's how it is.
This old world is inviting as a tomb.