like a missing tooth

I watched a home’s unwilling transition into ribbons of metal and piles of wood on my walk to class last week. As I watched its destruction I saw on the sidewalk a letter addressed to the former home’s owner. It read, “we want to buy your house! We have cash for your house TODAY!” By my walk back from class, the lot was void, an uncomfortable space now, between two homes — like a missing tooth in a row of others; whose fate may be the same. Missing.