Marc Darnell
Driving By A Place I Used To Live 2
It looks as if it were a single room—
a roof upon a cube, but I am sure
it stood a castle to our tiny statures,
of cherry wood and teal linoleum.
We were good, so Santa always came—
our family was an ordinary picture,
affable and seldom needing lectures,
but future years wouldn't be the same.
I live up high, the idling dots are people,
but at eye-level, detached blurs to me.
It's better when we're young, look up at eyes
from giants full of love, to be little,
but then we grow, look for space, and marry
to live in houses never quite our size.
Bio
Marc Darnell is a custodian and online tutor in Omaha NE, and has also been a phlebotomist, hotel supervisor, busboy, editorial assistant, farmhand, devout recluse, and incurable brooder. He received his MFA from the University of Iowa, and has published poems in The Lyric, Rue Scribe, Verse, Skidrow Penthouse, Shot Glass Journal, The HyperTexts, Candelabrum, The Road Not Taken, Aries, Ship of Fools, Open Minds Quarterly, The Fib Review, Verse- Virtual, Blue Unicorn, Ragazine, The Literary Nest, and The Pangolin Review among others.