WHAT HOME IS
I WHO WANDERED WHEN I WAS YOUNG, WITH MY PERFUME (MY SAME PERFUME) A SMALL SACK OF EARRINGS AND BOOKS THAT I WOULD LEAVE BEHIND, I HAVE BECOME MORE ATTACHED THAN I EVER THOUGHT I WOULD BE TO THE IDEA OF HOME.
MATTHEW TOOK SOME PICTURES OF A HOME SO I STARTED IMAGINING WHAT HOME CAN BE. LAST NIGHT THE FIRST TIME I DREAMT A POEM. BUT I DID NOT WRITE IT DOWN. NOW MONDAY MORNING A FAVORITE SPOT, MAYBE EVEN A PERCH, ON A LOUNGE ON THE PORCH FACING AUGUST YELLOW FIELD I WHO HAVE THOUGHT I WAS A WANDERER NOT EXACTLY FOOTLOOSE MY FEET DON’T DANCE I IMAGINE HOME WHEN YOU VISIT ME I WANT YOU TO COME AND VISIT ME WE ARE ABLE TO SIT TIME OF DAY DOESN’T MATTER NEITHER DOES THE SEASON HOW OLD WE ARE DOESN’T MATTER EITHER WHAT DOES IS THAT WE KNOW HOW LUCKY WE ARE TO BE HOME.