mi casa es su casa

form: prose poem
completed: summer 2006
notes: a poem i wrote for an old boyfriend of mine. unfortunately, he never got to read it. rough and cheesy.

Here is what I will build our house from:
Dreams
Old jokes
Movie tickets
& Trojan wrappers
But it’s going to be hard to get the zoning on that.
So we will live in a flat
made by men
cement
steel
and wood,
over a used book shop
so you don’t have to run far to find new Burroughs.
We’ll have four rooms:

1. A combination kitchen and living room
so that we can cuddle while eating breakfast at two in the afternoon,
when we finally get to it.
2. A bedroom.
We’ll have to steal your bed because
mine’s not nearly comfortable enough.
3. A water closet with a European bath,
just to keep our options open.
4. A darkroom
so you’ll have someplace to hide whenever you want.

We’ll have a cat named Beatrix
because that’s the name you like.
We’ll find her one night when we’re walking home
from the café down the street.
A stray.
She’ll be very quiet and never jump up on the bed when she shouldn’t.
‘Cause that’s really awkward.
There will be pictures everywhere.
Photos.
Prints.
Posters.
A mural on the wall that your mum will insist upon.
And we’ll never have his/her towels
because you’re not his, you’re mine.
Every night we’ll fall asleep
Naked
on the exciting half,
Wake up blind
and be happy anyway.
There will always be Kahlúa
Irish Cream
and Cool whip.
Our landline will be a red rotary phone,
just because.
And every Sunday
we’ll sleep in late,
get up,
have coffee,
and talk about nothing
So I’ll have plenty of materials
When the zoning papers come through.