mmmccxxix

a small story
(as a means to begin to
tell you yet a larger one)

aw, would that you’d
come in and have your-
self a seat.  I’d pour you
a glass from this bottle
that I just opened.
if not, we can say
our goodbyes,
my door is right
here. this fuss has me
remembering despair,
a need so deep that a
little bit of company is
not even an option.
but i’m not there,
anymore, thank
the lord, thank the
lord, now i am here,
where I have my
parcel of cushions,
the four walls that
surround my little 

bed, as if to echo

and exaggerate its
existence, beyond
which are the people
I call neighbors, who
live within my building,
beyond which is the city
that ends, too, no matter
which direction I may go,
ensconced as it is within
another particular unit
of acreage or of space,
these extend outward,
as if to emphasize the
vibrancy, perhaps a
throbbing that comes
from the living, from
life, the parameter of
which is the edges of
my bed, my apartment,
my building, my city,
etc., each of these
having one thing
in common, which
is they are home.
my home. my
place.  and
so anything
is possible,
i might dance,
i might sing, i
could create a
work of art or
build something
a bit more efficient,
I might fall in love, i
might fall ill, and I might
then recuperate, within my

space. but why was I going

on so about it.  let’s stop there.
I’m home now.  next time,
perhaps, you might come
inside, I’d make some tea,
you can see the place
I live, and we might
talk about anything,
compare notes,
become friends,
or closer.  I do hope
to see you later.
tomorrow, perhaps?
but goodbye for now,
because now, I am
back, now,