Cottage Industry

 

The tired place where a man buys licorice
From a basement musty and foul
And where lizards shoot out from the backyard
Motoring along to the hum of 80s music

We savored the memories and I longed for

A special place in the waves and water
Where I could see the minnows
I could hear the music of parents
Who secured a trusting bond with their children
And I could even catch a sense that there is no danger
The terrible things happening are just the result of dust
That is obscuring our cloudy faces and sandswept eyes
Back in the cottage days, when I was in trouble
I would dig a hole, fill it with seashells
Then dig it again, pretending that they are new finds
When in fact, they were new finds.