Returning home

Standing at the bus stop

I forgot which house to return to.

People leave,

one by one,

everyone is going somewhere or other.

I have a ticket in my hand,

the address has been erased.

A man comes up and asks,

"Where are you going?"

I say,

"Where I don't live."

He smiles,

and leaves.

I stand again,

waiting for a house

that

doesn't recognize me.