#51: Brace Of Operations (The House)

Say What You Will, And Will What You Can,
But Woe To The Child . . . Woman Or Man,
'Twould Strive To Be Whole, Forgetting The Clan . . .
And All Those Who Shared The Nest.
The Sophisticate . . . The Barbarian . . .
Emily Post, Or The Kubla Khan . . .
Were Littered, Whelped, And Thus Began
The Seed To Germ The Rest.

We sat down in our Conundrum Coach,
mumbling, bumbling blokes,
but before we shuffled the maps at all,
the dashboard flashed, "The Folks!"

Without a map, without a card,
our Buggy revved and flew.
We whirled away without a sign . . .
and, yes, without a clue.

The whirring stopped, and from our hill,
Jo said, "This is dumb."
Then I looked up to see the house
we'd just departed from.

So, even when our Carriage door
popped open, we sat still,
thinking we had failed to guide
that steer-less Phil-Mobile.

But then I noticed that the house,
though seemingly the same,
was slightly different in color and style,
though identical in frame.

"I don't know how to look at this,"
I said to my co-pilot,
"I think our Car is stopping here.
It's gotten pretty quiet."

Then I got out and headed across
our hilltop to the door
that I remembered stumbling out
a moment or two before.

Now Jo was right behind me, and,
I acted like the guide,
cupping my hands around my ears
at music from inside.

We opened the door to find the place
empty, from wall to wall,
except for a record playing on
a stereo in the hall.