Turning The Corner Poem by Grant House

I drive to the bank to make a deposit
Pull into a space in the parking structure across the street
Walk down the stairs three flights
Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, straw hat and the check in hand
I step onto the sidewalk in the middle of a group of European tourists
They are walking casually back to their big tour bus speaking anything but English
I hear German and French quietly, comfortably spoken
Adjusting little packs and holding shopping bags they saunter
My hurry subsides as I join them on our short stroll to the corner
The light changes
I turn toward the bank and wonder
I wonder if
I wonder if I were to stay among them down the street
Take the steps up into their big white bus smiling, curious, but minding my business having spent the morning shopping in this typical American town
Sitting by the window looking out at the courthouse
The lawyers in suits shuffling to court on the sidewalk silently below
I leave everything behind as we pull out for our next stop
Another city
Our hotel
The airport
Home

I make my deposit
Head back toward my car
The bus pulls out into traffic
Turns the corner

I see myself briefly, darkly, there in the window looking out at anonymous me down there on the street as we pull away

As we pull away
I wonder
What it might be like
Living here
If this were home

We turn the corner
Pick up speed
I settle back into my seat
Recline it a little
Close my eyes
And wonder