A Short Daydream

An unmade bed smothered in pillows The corners of the quilt brushed onto the Floor sprinkled in kitty litter and cat hair Shoes cluttered around throughout the entire Length of the studio brought out from The closet after the closet got straightened Cockroaches peaking their heads out from Time to time checking the cat food bowls And scurrying when sensing any motion Unused wires, foot fungus spray, speakers A dog chain, empty picture frames, Luggage bags, and a key board all in reach The spin inside air conditioning vents So loud it quiets the sounds that shout From the street during morning rush hour Only one lamp that blazes light into the Ceiling, Its scream driving brightness into every corner Of the space bouncing off glossy white walls the lack of space cramps my imagination, but solitude is the only way I’ll have enough creativity to express conditions and reason the filthy disarray squashes comfort but starbucks would feel impersonal and unpleasant, the busy clouding focus As I write I dream of the perfect place To create that is broad and sane as if I could be better with a bigger space I search my mental rolodex to see If I have any rich friends that could Let me borrow their living room or even a patio and I picture feeling relief enough to inspire greater work and I see myself writing well I look at the poorly folded gym shirt And the empty cherrios box Left on the counter 10 feet away I ask myself, would my work better if I could have live this short day dream? Maybe someday I’ll find out, but for now…