Erin Danhi
19 May 2011
Home
It’s where I’ve drawn invisible lines through persistence
My half of the couch, my side of the bed.
I’ve created my personal feng shui with plastic
framed Dali crooked on the walls and growing heaps
of trinkets that would be a cacophony if they weren’t silent.
The air always smells of cigarettes and expensive coffee.
I think it’s kind of patriotic, American Spirit and Starbucks.
The nightstand hides my traditional bong and
contemporary weed; some Humboldt hybrid.
It makes my obtuseness more acute.
The bookshelves clumsily stacked with King and Koontz
and some Dostoyevsky that I didn’t purchase.
An antique marble chess set I’ve never touched.
It belonged to a woman who survived Auschwitz.
A TV with medium definition keeps me informed
about Lindsay and Lybia and life outside.
I have no desire to live outside my box.