Exhibition / Stopping By by Phil Huffy

Exhibition

I can be found in a museum of nothing;

of walls that do not inspire.

My exhibit, unfindable,

its tenure, most questionable

and my thoughts, barely knowable.

 

The clientele here is largely invisible;

there is no gift shop or bar.

My dreams are the place of it

in total subservience

to the mind’s nightly excursions.  

Stopping By

 

The house itself, changed while unchanged.

So, backwards down the path of time

and frontwards down the street itself,

watching that place of star-crossed pretending.

 

Back to days of smooth skinned sweethearts

honing their skills through moonlit walks

and wine stoked basement rendezvous, 

though your touch itself was an intoxicant.

 

 All that was needed in the moment

 were a five-dollar bill and a borrowed car,

 and summer jobs or dead-end jobs were fine

 enough, it seemed.

 

Then back to the present

as a soft light fills your old room,

and motoring on,

leaving the past in the rearview mirror.

Phil Huffy writes early and often at his kitchen table, casting a wide net as to form and substance. His work has appeared in dozens of journals and anthologies, including Schuykill Valley Review, Eunoia, Pangolin, Orchards Poetry, The Lyric, and several haiku publications. Phil’s other interests are cycling, camping, pet care, potato chips, moonlight, and motor trips.