Remember

In a faded day that was once glorious sunshine…
It is that twilight between night and day.
At the bus stop.
At the outer crust of a large city.

Not much to look at:
A dilapidated house slumps across the street
In front of my bus stop bench.
It’s an ugly abandoned cheap wreck.

The windows are boarded.
The door is unhinged and open.
Weeds are tall and well assorted.
Garbage litters the lawn.

Every time I pass it I wonder –
I wonder why it still stands.
One would think it’d be knocked down
To accommodate the urban sprawl.

A black shiny Mercedes creeps in front
Of the deserted house.
It stops.
The door opens.

A well-dressed man with a briefcase
Exits the car.
He waves the car away.
The sleek car drives away.

There is an odd quiet,
Interrupted only by a soft breeze.
His face was a mixture,
the expression traitorous to category.

Extremely hard to describe, words slide.
It was so pensive, yet sad, yet calm
Relief is thrown in.
There is even a speckle of amusement.

His face turns fully to the house.
He is a rock.
The world stops for him.
Yet the wind swings the rusty gate.

Silence, so rudely punctured by that gate.
Trance is broken.
Two uneasy steps forward.
Pause.

The gate opens as if to beckon him.
His polished shoes glint in the sunset.
Leaves and debris float in the wind.
Everything is so golden.

The advance is measured.
Consciously slow up the front steps.
He is the shadow –
Disappearing into the dark doorway.

The bus comes.
I ponder –
Out of sight, but not out of mind.