Friday, April 6, 2012

My Brother's Therapist

I walk through the neighborhood
delighted by the lights
that twinkle inside houses,
the bling of the toy train sets,
some massive, some intricate,
with hills and stores and workers
in every house.

I want to knock on the doors
as I see the changing colors,
the glistening of joy and gentle rumbles
but I know
inside
the train sets all are wrecked
every one of them,
with capsized buildings, twisted people,
engines in a ditch.

The lights now are alarms
and they've sent containment crews
to guard the doors,
keep stray visitors
from seeing.

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