moving.

already feels like home.

hard wood floors.

bare lightbulbed ceilings

with string switches.

empty bookshelves built

into the walls like the house

knew a poet was moving in.

our bedroom feels like afternoon.

the kitchen is 1954.

blinds on the windows clank

as you open them.

the living room has twenty people in it

when no one's there.

house moves with you as you walk

complimenting your speed,

allowing for mistake or

redundant sound.

it is .home. when even

the weakness of the windows

mirrors the humanity of its dwellers.

2004-07-28, 5:57 p.m.
design by bluechicken

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