where the world doesn’t move much

next to the absence of a future that

simply never was and just shy of an

irredeemable past that could never be

there is a void blanketed with memories

and vague intentions left in the back of the

closet across from a once used bowling ball

and bowling shoes that didn’t fit your fingers

or your feet with a large loose hairball of dog

and cat fur that gently blows back and forth

in the corner opposite the door which faces

east, when the back-door opens and closes