Ode to my Apartment

How I love you, little rooms mine,
How I love you.
Don't be so worried
Your square feet are perfect
(I am not myself expansive)
And as for your layout,
Blame the cold war functionalists
and color on hippies.
You are my nest, my roosting spot.
A gracious space for sash-i-facts
(cat-i-facts, some say)
(art-i-facts, others)
Home to my books, leaves, and dance shoes,
My fishy, and candles
(Which, Stephanie, I never light, of course).
I like your familiar rusts, stains, and scratches,
Evidence of life, activity, and contexts.
Have others liked you so well? I doubt it.

When I fail, as I am prone to do,
to return at a reasonable hour,
It is not the paint, but the irony that
In order to stay, I must not be there.
And if this makes you sad,
Please don't forget,
The longer the day, and colder the night,
The happier I return to you.