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A single stick of Chapstick rolls down the stairs.Click click click.But no one is home.
I wonder if the paint has always been this shade of chartreuse.It looks tackyBut I black out at the door to the Sherwin-Williams.The cashiers I see through the windows are strangers to meBut how many of them have I met?And what have I told them about why I need all this paint?
I don’t remember buying all these lemons.I don’t know how long this mid-century modern fruit bowl has been the centerpiece of my dining room table.Empty tortilla chip bags accumulate in the corners but all are empty of tortilla chip dust.Every night I dream that white spots have bloomed across my MaltesersAnd when I wake up they’re perfect gleaming brown.Crunch crunch crunch.The crisp sound of delicious comfort.
What does this house smell like?Every morning I scatter potpourri like Jesus sowing a field of believers.But night comes and I still don’t know.
I wonder if the paint has always been this shade of chartreuse.It looks tackyBut I black out at the door to the Sherwin-Williams.The cashiers I see through the windows are strangers to meBut how many of them have I met?And what have I told them about why I need all this paint?
I don’t remember buying all these lemons.I don’t know how long this mid-century modern fruit bowl has been the centerpiece of my dining room table.Empty tortilla chip bags accumulate in the corners but all are empty of tortilla chip dust.Every night I dream that white spots have bloomed across my MaltesersAnd when I wake up they’re perfect gleaming brown.Crunch crunch crunch.The crisp sound of delicious comfort.
What does this house smell like?Every morning I scatter potpourri like Jesus sowing a field of believers.But night comes and I still don’t know.
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