they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Friday, January 15, 2010


it's not the color of the walls
or that rug you don't know if you like.

it's not the kitchen filled with
herbs and vegetables and

it's not the red poster bed
or white down
or that little scrappy dog
and the stately cat.

it's not even the way that i long to take care of you
every night as i build
a sandwich out of
carefully chosen bread
and organic turkey
a smear of mustard
and some greens


none of those things make this my home
just you,

just you.


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