junkyard

i had an aunt
she lived
in a junkyard
for a spell
i liked walking
among the skeletons
of automotive
decay

she always had
odd signs
on the walls
over the toilet read
‘my aim
is to keep
this bathroom clean,
your aim helps’

i can’t recall
her voice
or the color of her eyes
but i remember
her lying
in the hospital bed
in a coma
all shrunken

and carrying her casket
as a pallbearer
my cousins
in suits
as we lifted
the wooden box
with her empty shell
inside

(after she died
we would
sneak into
the same junkyard
to steal parts
to fix up
my friend’s
motorcycle
he only had it running
for a week or two
before
it fell on him
the muffler badly burning his leg
a summer of mischief stricken
as he had a doctor
peel the burnt skin away)

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