Homecoming.

If I don't offer you comfort

It is because my mind has gone

Packed up and left in the

Middle of the night

No forwarding address

So I cope on a day-to-day basis

Not bad for a man in stasis

But I'm not entirely sure of who I am

I weed the garden

Cook dinner

Listen to my wife complain about work

And wonder to myself:

Where is this?

How did I get here?

What do I do now?

Apparently, lawns are mowed

Sunday mornings

Pools are cleaned

BBQs scraped

Gas bottle filled

The leaf blower is given a workout

And when the noise stops

Only a breeze moving leaves

You sink back into the aircon

And wonder what

All the fuss was about

You sleep tight

Alcohol assisted

And if it rained last night

You definitely missed it

Then you wake

Check the calendar

See another day has passed

Each day following each day

More teleological than the last

Until time stops

Wouldn't that be a grand thing?

No more lawnmowers

Or leaf blowers

Only the cold mineral glint

Of stars slowly dying

The notion of peace at last

In a universe reduced to dust

If one day my mind chooses to return

I don't quite know what I would say

"Welcome back," or "I missed you,"

Or "Did you forget your wallet?"

Or "How was your day, honey?"

None of these are funny

But they express the banality

Of a homecoming finally

Where ones best friend and companion

Has been away.

© shaun patrick green 2019