I came out of the house
to see my son standing 
with these women
in white shorts and button ups
all pastel and glowing in the sun
they tell me about 
how this house 
was thier home 
built by thier father
how his workshop
was in the back room
of the basement
as if to prove they knew
blueprint of the house
they mentioned a fire
and I stood there knowing
they wanted to come in

it made me think about
those people when I was young
that would come to my house
stand on my porch and drink
a can of Pepsi 
pat thier foreheads with 
a scented napkin
they would talk about
the one room
schoolhouse turned church
that was on our land

those women looked at us
like those far away 
stale air smelling
folks with heavy cameras
swinging from thier necks

like we didn’t deserve
what they left behind
a series of doctored up
memories too weak
to be held to the light