Carl's House Prose-Poem

here's a free write i did and the poem i made from it afterwards:

I walk in to Dunkin' Donuts on a Tuesday morning at seven A.M., Ipod still on ear buds still in, Nate and his mom stand before me. Waiting in line. "Sarah!"
"Nathan!"
Sarah, where have you been? He's gotten a buzz cut since I've last seen him. They're waiting for the Holyoke bus, they say, time for Nate to get glasses. I've been waiting for this to happen. To run into someone from the program. I tell him and his mom the truth the commute is to long on Sundays, due to the reduced bus schedule and have been fucking with my work I feel like an asshole. They seem convinced, disappointed though. I promise them I'll be back at Carl's house soon enough, once I work out a new schedule with the new coordinator.
We miss you they say. I say, I miss you too and See you soon, I'm running late. It starts drizzling as I head out; I pull up my hoodie as I turn the Ipod back, an Al Green morning walk to work.
Thinking about Bob and his sister Lonnie who also live at Carl's House. I wonder if they're still there. I hope so, even though I should hope that they're not. Lonnie and Bob had beautiful little kids lisps, it sounded like their words were made of sugar water when they talked.
Bob always picked me weeds, some day he would spend the entire two hours handing me fistfuls of dirt and grass.
Her Sawah. Thank You Bob.
Do you Woves them Sawah?
Of course I do Bobbie, thank you. He'd run of satisfied, ready to gather another heap of dirt for me. Lonnie on the other end of the yard starts yelling at Harry.
You're a bad man.
Why Lonnie?
Because, yous DASS.
What, do you mean?
You're bad, you're mean. She starts throwing the markers across the picnic table. Bob continues to draw. Sarah he says, you like my Incredible Hulk? Yes I say. Bob, what’s wrong with your sister I ask. She thinks you're D.S.S.
Oh I say.
She thinks your here to take babies away.

Standing in the basement, the playroom, I count the kids, seven today, Nate, Lonnie, Bob, Pete, Jay, Ben, Brandon three adults. One small room filled with toys.
Nate along with Bob attempts to kill me, I'm the evil green alien, they're the hero soldiers, so they say. I pretend to die, a loud and painful death. They giggle, huddling over my 'slain' body. Pete comes over too. The boys inch in, I grab them quickly one by one, tickling their bellies. They know it’s going to come, but love the semi surprise anyway. We go on like this for several minutes; I probably die 20 times in the next five minutes. I tell them I'm tired of dying and that they've successfully removed all Aliens from the room today. New game. Nate grabs all the toys from the shelf, throws them into a basket, and dumps them out too. Nate what are you doing I ask?
He continues on in his game, showing me what exactly he planned on doing, Bob joined in too. They begin sorting out different objects. Oh yes, murmurs Nate, this will do. Oh that’s perfect Bob stuffs a toy into his pocket.
Where's my purse, this is useful! He puts it into one of the costume bags.
Nate what are you doing? He smiles looks up and says, I'm looking through the trash! His cheeks are about to burst with cuteness I swear. Kim one of the other volunteers and I make eye contact. Oh, that’s a nice thing you've found there for yourself, I smile back at Nate eyeing a wooden block that represents something. Sarah look what I found, bob runs up into my lap and curls up. A watch and some earphones!
Very cool I say.

Carls house:

Some other kids Bob and Lonnie they had
beautiful little kids lisps,
Their words sounded like sugar water when they talked.
Bob gave me weeds, handing me fistfuls of dirt and grass.
Here Sawah/ Thank You Bob/Do you Woves them Sawah/Of course
Markers catapult across the picnic table
over drawings of bikes and homes they once had or wished about
into holes where weeds once stood.
You're a bad man/ Why Lonnie/Because, yous DASS./What, do you mean/You're bad you're mean/ Ha She said A S S/ Bob, what’s wrong with Lonnie/Sawah you like my Incredible Hulk/ Yes/ She thinks you're D.S.S./Oh /She thinks you guys are here to take babies away/oh.

Carver's Imitation

One afternoon Wes was in the yard pulling weeds when Chef drove up in front of the house. I was in the bathroom painting my nails when he came in through the front door. Wes I need you to come with me to Eureka for the night. I've got some bad news, My Ex- Wife, killed herself and the kids are a mess. Chefs kids were a little older than ours, maybe thirty or so, though he never mentioned his family much.
Once Wes told me that Chef's disappeared for months at a time while he was drinking and that his kids still resented that til this day. Nothing he could get around, Wes said. I walked into the living room to find Chef still in the doorway. I leaned against the front hall wall.
"Edna I hope you understand." Wes jogged into the bed room, I could hear him opening some drawers.
"Of course Chef, don't you worry about me, take care of yourself. Wes, I'll make you guys some sandwiches for the road." I looked down at my hands realizing my mistake. Chef caught on.
"Actually we don't have time for that right now Edna. We've got to get going so Michelle can go home before her night shift." Michelle was his daughter. He had a soon too. I think his name was Ted, but Chef never mentioned him. Perhaps he was dead or busy wishing Chef was dead. " Gee Chef, don't you think the Bar would give her some time off, I mean her mother just died, give her some time with you and her children. A confused look washed across his face. He furrowed his brow. He looked like he was searching for words as he drew in a breath, but Wes came back in the room a small suite case packed, cutting Chef off, Chef, I'm sorry about this, I sure am. Can we get you anything soda water, juice? Wes asked.
Um, no thank you. I'll just sit here until you're ready to go. Don't worry about me or the kids, for that matter, Edna. We'll take care. He closed his eyes, wiping the sweat off his forehead. You could tell he didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. I wonder what happened. How she did it, why she did it, who found her. Chef sat down first, we talked some more about Michelle and how she was taking the news. I stood shaking my hands hoping my nails would dry, feeling as if they were such an embarrassing interruption of the real world. I'd have to repaint them anyway. They were smudged already, I don't know how. As he talked I could see his eyes moving back and forth between a stain on the carpet from a couple days ago when I had some red wine and some condensation on the table. My calves got tired and sat next to him on the couch. Chef Shifted in his seat, moving one knee across the other, within seconds,unsatisfied with his positioning he uncrossed his legs and bent forward folding his elbows. We sat in silence as Wes went into the bathroom to grab a toothbrush. I wondered what I should do tonight. Probably finish weeding the yard then Read, or maybe watch some T.V. or write to one of the kids tell them about Chef's new situation, but they wouldn't really care.