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I'm Building a Home

If you do come around, I’ll welcome you with a marching band’s drumroll, to my fort of dirty dishes and expired parking tickets.

I'm building a home
on Tuesday’s laundry and broken light bulbs.

I’ve spent so long balancing on top of the pile of
return to sender-confidence
that I toppled over and hit my head,
but I’ll clean the place up before you come over,
I swear.

Do you want to stay the night?
I can make a bed for you,
I’ll even beat out yesterday’s daydreams before you go to sleep,
they like to keep people awake, you see,

and if you want a cup of tea,
I make an okay ginger and lemon.
But please excuse me for a second,
ambitions keep dusting up the bottom of my mugs.

If you do come around,
I’ll welcome you with a marching band’s drumroll,
to my fort of dirty dishes and expired parking tickets.
Just don’t expect too much from me,
when you arrive in the shirt your wife neatly ironed
With your briefcase full of documents and signatures.

I’m still trying to divide my socks from my spoons from my groceries,
And I’m doing my best.  

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I'm Building a Home
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