It’s raining on all the sparrows. Inside my beautiful old house, I drink a billowing latte, knowing this will not be my house much longer. There are things inside this place I have never done – no sex on the stairs, no writing on the walls, no paintbrush has ever extended from my arm. But I think every inch of it has seen some part of my naked body, I puked once outside in the driveway, I’ve slipped on the tile, I’ve broken many things and cleaned up the shards, I’ve lied, told the truth, watched Battlestar Galactica on my couch and loved it. I took my first bath with a beer – highly recommended. I’ve freed spiders, moths, ants and bees and also killed a few. This house has been through a lot of poems with me.

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