though
in truth
they never were
the
just
bargers
barger and mrs.
neighbors of my grandparents
i don't know what brought them to mind
maybe the gray
rainy morning
and the smell of wood smoke
they have only ever been
an imagining
as a child
i heard them spoken of
by my great aunt and grandparents
gathered around the big table
laden with my grandmother's cooking
as i sat silently amongst the giants
of my little existence
all i can recall ever hearing about them
(i never once saw either of them)
is
mrs. barger was always cold
and mr. barger
barger
smoked cigarettes
(maybe)
the rest
like so much of my current conception of reality
was left to my imagination
i imagined them
and still do
an elderly couple
gaunt
and ghostly
eating soup in their dark, little house
a perpetual curl of smoke rising from the chimney
poor
but not wanting
and that is where and how they will always exist
because that is the only place they have ever existed for me
in my imagination
haunting that little house
contentedly eating soup by a warm fire
forever
