there is a scent in the air
of fresh tomatoes floating in a pot of water
ready to be rinsed, cooked down and
poured into glass jars
mixed with the smell of a musty dank basement
where the daddy long legs call home
the cars on the highway are big steel machines
I watch the numbers on the gas pump
roll like a combination lock
as my mother fills the tank
I can see the fumes floating off the nozzle
the lake we would go swimming
on a quiet Saturday
is gone
covered over and turned into a hospice care facility
the woods behind the house are gone
to make room for more houses
the photo huts are gone
the movie theaters, dime stores are gone
my childhood is gone
my 20’s, 30’s, 40’s gone
my hair, eyesight
everything has been demolished, buried and rebuilt
leaving only memories
memories of something as simple as
fresh tomatoes floating in a pot of water

Image Credit:Andrea Riezzo

Ken Tomaro is a writer living in Cleveland Ohio whose work reflects everyday life with depression. His poetry has appeared in several online and print journals and explores the common themes we all experience in life. Sometimes blunt, often dark but always grounded in reality.

He has 4 full-length collections of poetry: Home Is Where the Headstones Are, An Angry Year, Paralysis & Potholes and Perogies (through Alien Buddha Press) available on Amazon.