In a Storage 1

My life in a storage shed. Paid for by the month. I see you there in those horrible boxes. Kneading the dough. Our bed no longer holds us. Dust formed a posse and waits. Do you think of me? When I cook I think of those days. I see Nonna shelling fava beans. Dipping bread in olive oil. Ti taglierò la lingua (she would say after a tease.) Teramo where i was alive. I see the Domo and those friends. If I close my eyes I can walk there. You took the best of me but I have the dishes.