Furniture and Soulmates
the difference between
furniture and future
is just the ‘r’, ‘n’, ‘i’
those with no hope of home
tend to run further away
there’s never a right time
to have a child, but
there is a perfect time
to buy a crib, next weekend,
they’re having a sale and
she is due in six weeks.
those birds of a feather
who travel together — i guess
that’s the dream, but i don’t
envy them, i envy bookcases
in park slope.
herman miller furniture stays with you
like grandma’s ashes,
a leather chair passed on,
a dining table never gets old
you only need a new one
because you want a new one
like psychological hunger.
never marry someone
whose apartment
you can’t afford to furnish.
“no more monsters under the bed:
we bought a platform.”
furniture is such a commitment —
too much furniture
and you have no future.
one day you forget
how all this shit
fit in the front door,
unwilling to disassemble
too much of a future
when you just want to
sit, read, sleep, hug.
today:
one bedroom,
one me
one day:
you and me,
maybe still one bedroom
whose furniture
are you sitting
on now