avant l'impasse

i think we're lost.
my voice sounded so strange and even foreign.
like when you say a word over and over until it sounds silly.
so i thought maybe i'd gone crazy for a moment;
and i let the silence swallow the words whole
praying they'd erase them from short term memory.
everything looks familiar.
everything looks right.
but something isn't.
and i'm dumbfounded that no one else can see that the house is upside down.
i keep telling myself it was designed this way...
that there's something else amiss...
the color? the shutters?
but it wasn't
and there isn't.
it's a blaring, obvious statement.
underlined, emboldened and colored in red
scrawled on a perfectly clean living room wall
and you cannot miss it.
we're lost.
i found a side street i'd never been down,
and it felt good to notice something new in this place i know like the back of my hand.
but it isn't like that, here.
no, i'm scared as hell.
and i wandered down another street and found a wooded sanctuary.
we stayed there a while
too cool in the shade on a late november day
but i stayed a while to pray
the pine needles spread under us like a welcoming carpet
i forgot it all as we moved
as we laughed
as we spoke
and all too soon, as though i'd said, "amen"
the spell broke
a stranger too close to the car
just leaving advertising
just leaving a note.
we walked past the tennis courts
humming
a little post script psalm
because i hope you know that it isn't quite as simple as it seems
it's all very well, indeed to say so
to say that this is this
and that is that
and the contract states
and now it is broken
but it isn't quite so easy.
it's never black and white...
or perhaps it is, and we wish so badly for a gray area to make it a little easier.
i'll ask a little longer
i'll wait a little while more
but we are nearing the end of the well
draining the seas
and i'm asking for rain
or for this one to stand up
don't remain silent.
don't stay seated
it will all disappear
and i tried so hard.