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…
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