We are here in Massachusetts

 

Yes I do have a fork preference 

We are at the ninth out of ten 

Stretching my back on the living room rug

Steadfast companion 

The top shelf is our most spacious offering 

If I google Roy Rogers will I learn horrible things

Unlearning hegemony as bildungsroman 

I used to live in Boston 

Twin-size inflated on the wooden floor 

Milk crates for a closet 

Plastic folding table as desk 

For nearly twenty years I lived in seven hundred square feet or, most often, much fewer 

I used to ride the subway alone at night

Amtrak to New York a couple times a month 

Sleeping alone in the backseat in Wyoming, alone in the backseat in Black Canyon 

Old hat, eventually 

She asks, Did you feel safe? 

Cat calls during every walking commute

You got your boots on 

Every run 

A little kid crossing the road alone for her first time 

A teenager in Kohl's 

A child on a field trip

A young woman in a new city alone 

A young woman traveling across Spain alone 

A young woman riding the subway alone 

Honey you don't have to say it 

Fuck! 

Yeah, I said, I felt pretty safe

When I called him to Somerville he would come

Mono from the afterparty 

Sock on the door handle

Then there's the whole friend issue 

Loon painting and sounds 

Yellow bowl on the coffee table 

I bypass the water softener to water the plants 

I can finish this living room in four steps: change out the rug, buy the blue chair, hang some art (the loons? the buffalo?) over the blue chair, frame the octopus 

How can I defend it. Physical therapy has cost me fifteen hundred dollars 

Metal basket filled with gardening magazines 

The man at the yard sale almost didn't believe me 

I am so laden as I come into this place 

My goal is for every item in my home, or as close as I can get to it, to have a story