Looking out the windows in my new loft, I can see people moving into the space I used to call home in the building across the street.
I see boxes.
And a man.
And a woman.
And I wonder.
Will they race each other down the long hall that leads to their front door?
Will they notice the faint smell of pastries being made in the bakery below?
Will they hang their coats on the rack I installed?
Will they feel at home in the home that was once mine?
Hey mister, that's not where the bed goes. We had ours in the corner. And the table goes in the middle to give you a view of it all. A view of each other. And of your home. And of the city should your eyes choose to roam.
Will you watch people in the salon across the street?
Will you watch the streetcar roll by?
Will you two make a new life?
Will you someday call her your wife?
I lived there before you.
I did these things too.
I tried that once too.
But I moved out, and now I see you.
Hey lady, where did you come from? And what's in those boxes? Are they filled with furnishings from two homes becoming one?
Hey lady, is he the one?
Will he care for you when you're ill?
Will he hold you when you're scared?
Will he write sweet stories about you when you're not there?
Will his cats wait for you by the door?
A bit of advice from a guy who knows.
Will your dishwasher leak?
Will your washer overflow?
Will your neighbor's stereo thump bass through the far wall?
Will your boxes be filled again in ten months' time?
These things happened to me, and no damage was done - except for the part where two homes become one. She and I are still friends though one home is now two. I guess what I'm saying is, it could happen to you.
Hey, why'd you close your blinds?
I found this blog post very beautiful. I love the second to last paragraph. Thank you.::::: | December 5, 2005 10:50 PM