The putrid fumes of diesel
announced their arrival.
A moving van, large and ominous,
Descended curbside,
In a deluge of screeching breaks and scattered dust.
A not so subtle future of change,
Rapped unforgivingly upon my front door.
As Neanderthals dressed
In modern-day work clothes,
Meandered haphazardly inside.
They carelessly plucked at our memories.
Taking back half that was yours,
And much that was mine, despite my protests.
When they finished dismantling
What had been my life,
They departed unceremoniously.
With their bounty in tow.
I heard their engine roar,
And watched as our memories
Disappeared forever.
Left only with a crumpled receipt,
As proof to a once happy existence.