Eagle Street

Up the astroturfed stairs to the back door
Opening into the kitchen
Cramped for space, but filled with treats

The dining room table brown as Grandma's roast beef gravy
Orange plush carpet that smelled like Christmas
Lime walls glow neon in the sunlight

Plop down and stretch out on the couch
Look out over the vast expanse towards the television
The living room was huge, and got smaller every year

Up the stairs I used to slide down
Hang on to the banister Grandpap just put in
So he-and everyone else-wouldn't take a tumble

Hit the top and into the bathroom
The toilet ran like a track star
And the only shower was the rain through the open window

Mom's old room on the right
With a draw curtain-she was too cool for a door
Sink into the bed and night night sleep tight

The windows let in the sticky cool breeze of July
Car headlights trace their path on the wall
To scare away the monsters

Wake up and look into the grandparents' room
Filled to the brim with a bed
The closet doubled as Santa's workshop

Down the hall to wake up Mom and Dad
Look out the window at the moving truck
Time to pack up and move out

Clean out the cellar
The grotto of stone and concrete
Filled with boxes and old junk

Out the cellar door and up into the yard
The stairs I climbed a million times before
Like a ballplayer from the dugout, or a toy soldier from the trenches

The morning sun lights up the clouds
The church bells peal, the firehouse siren blares,
and the truck's engine roars to life

They said it was sinking
The mine shafts below it were ready to consume it
Besides, there's another home waiting

But this was our house for twenty-five years
This was my home, before I was even born
I hear it's a carpet-cleaning company now.