BURLINGTON: Short Story & Poem

BURLINGTON

-Short Story & Poem-

"The Breezeway" 

[Story]

A frosty afternoon.

A drive heading west,

Sky’s getting darker faster than expected. 

Dutch Colonial houses painted exclusively in pastels.

Burlington.

A single story homestead nestled at the end of the street. 

A snow-covered elephant toppled in the front yard.

Here be artisans, folk singers, and hippies alike.

Outside. 

Colder than predicted.

Lamenting my lack of layering.

We enter through a hallway of wall-mounted bicycles and lights.

Ebullient strangers welcome us inside and offer us “dumpster cupcakes.” 

We decline. 

We’re here for Addie.

They tell us, “Through the window, just go back out into the hall.”

We push through the glass, it opens with ease. 

An room occupied by a garment covered drum kit and spinet piano.

A declaration of arrival followed by warm words and embraces.

Sisters reunited. 

Addie tells us we could’ve used the door.

She takes us to her sanctuary.

Earthy smells.

Yellow walls.

Baskets stuffed with tealeaves. 

A jovial aura so thick you could capture it on film.

Sitting on the bed.

An illustrated binding of Whitman.

A neologistic picture book.

Du Iz Tak?

We exit through a kitchen.

Verdant and small. 

I stop and take a picture.

I don’t know why.

Drive downtown.

Streets lit up with leftover decorations.

A secondhand book shop.

Vintage cameras.

A sushi restaurant.

A lamp store with a stage. 

Open mic night. 

Locals tell their tales.

Then we migrate to the room where the band’s rocking their calypso.

Sisters talking. 

I draw on the walls with chalk. 

No one stops me.

We drive Addie home.

Exchanging our goodbyes. 

Newborn flurries,

kissing our cheeks with rime.

Snowfall’s piling.

Eastbound driving. 

But we can’t feel the cold. 

God bless seat warmers.

"Sisters"

{Poem}   

Frosty morning

A drive heading west

Skylines darker than we’d expect

Dutch Colonial houses

Painted in pastels

Here New England weirdos dwell

Single story homestead

At the end of the street

There’s an elephant in the front yard

Knocked off its feet 

Go in through the breezeway

Mounted bikes and skates

Here the artisans congregate

Ebullient strangers

Welcome us inside

“Dumpster cupcake?”

We decline

“We’re here for Addie”

“Bloody shame”

“She’s just beyond the window frame”

We hunch as we enter

pushing through the glass

to the room with the drum set

piano, bench, and brass

Sisters reunited

warm words and more

“You know you could’ve just used the door?” 

Laugh it off

She takes us to her bedroom

with the Earthy smells

Walls are yellow

books and shelves

Baskets stuffed with tealeaves

herbs and spice

A pixie’s private paradise

Du Iz Tak?

Exit out the kitchen

Verdant and small

Stop and take a picture

show off your picture

Drive downtown

where the streets are bright

strung with surplus Christmas lights

Walk downtown

Addie leads

to the secondhand bookshop

empty handed we leave

pick up some photos

developed celluloids

half backlit fully enjoyed

Moving on

To the lamp store with a stage

Open mic night

Locals sharing stories

in the limelight

Migrate to the next room

With the calypso band

hipsters dancing hand in hand

Drive her home

Exchange your goodbyes

Newborn snowflakes kiss your eyes

See you soon.

"Kitchen"