Guest Room At The Old Persons' House Poem by Rhys Owens

Hold on, stay back.
I leave the gate open
So the demon will creep into me
And I can have my way with it,
On my own turf.

When younger, and even now:
I'd run across the night, from one door
To the other door, as if they were after me.
I'd slam it with a deep breath;
Would I have the second it takes to lock it
Before they start to turn the knob?

But like a true unbeliever, I never feared the windows.
No. They were out there, all right. That I could feel.
The windows just weren't their thing. I felt that.
Now I can read. Now I can watch TV.

But the movie of the night.
What happened to the profound melodrama
Of the '70s 'Salem's Lot?
Those were real movies. I can feel them
When I walk the streets.
The road by the church, beneath the crosses,
Down the hill, or through the woods.

Where are those video game Eternal nights,
And Dorito days of the '90s gone?
The room proved nothing outside but the future.
When magazines filled the floor
And the Atari wizard magic of the '80s,
Puppets galore and faded psychedelic shades
Of Dungeons and Dragons' last reality
Outside of gloss,
Sailed under the comic book bridge of its varied Ages.

How many times I lay awake at night,
Knowing this place is haunted,
Under the strange blankets in this cozy fear,
I know will be safe in sleep.

Where did my illusions go,
Because I knew they were true.
I ate the soup when I came out of the snow,
Back inside I watched sitcoms, promptly,
On Friday night. And ate the
Keebler Tato skins
Out of sight.

I loved many women in my dreams,
But none one made a bigger mess in my sheets
Than a truth I still wait
Makes of my life.

I still wait in strange hours,
Biding my time.
Hoping for the day I'll hear the starting gun.
I'm so tired of waiting, the waiting,
By far, is the hardest part.

The Great Grand Canyon Rescue episode,
Weekday afternoons, getting off the bus;
I remember cartoons. I remember us,
When we will one day, again.
I think storms between it.

Laying awake at night, I knew I was never,
Would never!
Be weak willed enough to be possessed
Like that girl in The Exorcist.
I never worried about that.
But that I could be a stump,
Like De Niro in Awakenings.
And grow into a tree,
I once was.