Sunday, January 27, 2008

Cupidity

You find the perfect house.
Three bedrooms, one bath.
Yellow.
A garden.
Windows. More windows. Still more windows.
In your town.

Then it is placed for sale.
Cheap.
Absurdly cheap.
So cheap that even you could afford it.
Almost.

It is like being in love, the unrequited kind,
The only consummation
The knowledge that the person exists.



reading bank statements
weather snow expected