There was a box of choco pie
meant for you
left behind the hidden door of the pantry
back there in the place where home meant alone
for me, at least, that was what I had wanted
unless otherwise meant I could walk you back
to where you had wanted to be
I think it was October too that was supposedly
a last ‘good-bye’ of sorts
good-bye, for the time being
you were going to where you had wanted
where you could have become
maybe someone else
and now in this dimly-lit garage where I continue to read
reminiscent of the white room with a four-door pantry where I lived
I saw a small box with a few of that familiar red package
of the choco pie brand I would get for you from the store we would pass by
on the way, those afternoons, somehow I still remember
I do not know if you got my reply nor if I should eat one tonight
