Shared Space


Crossed a linoleum floor

to a paisley spread,
newly weds
side by side in
separate beds – two
children shared a
heated room; one sucked her
thumb, one wet her bed.

His Uncles boots untied,
perched on a stool near
a metal sign – selling
old stuff, “Antiques,” he

Cribs, pillows, and one old
blanket hangs to divide
a living space; his new
family all crammed
into one room –
Is this their honeymoon?

“Stay put, lots of space
right here, near the beach,”

his Uncle John tugged on
a sunburned arm.

Many a night we slept
on wet sand, when youth
was on our side –
traveled long – counted
pennies for food –

One day we will stare at our
children, sleeping  – tiny toes
peeking from a blanket –

Eighteen wheelers
cruised the beach road
at night – going some
eighty miles per hour,
scared to shut your
eyes, as head lights
beamed into the room.

By morning light, while
pelicans were playing on
a dock – feet tip toed
passed the hanging blanket;
heard a couple snore, and
glanced at two children
sharing a crib: sheets
the smell of urine.

Left paisley spreads and
separate beds, newly weds,
and children sharing one
small crib – in one room
among antiques, on a

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Angie's Diary