Home.

The following is inspired by the standard holy trinity of any hobby writer:
Random pop culture moment: for me, today, Garden State, a not-so-little film in little film packaging.
Significant life event: Nadia and I just moved to Yaletown (yes, THAT Yaletown).
Last but not even close to least, insomnia.



Home.

walls
paint
dishes
carpet
a lamp you don't remember buying, but you can't imagine life without.

I cuddle up, arms and legs entangled, and I wish we could stay like this forever
almost embarrassing, but satisfying to my core, this sweaty, trashy menage a trois.
It's a scandalous public display -- what would my mother think?
Me, this armchair and a paperback book I only met this afternoon.
The page turned, noon became nine, and I closed my eyes in orgiastic bliss
until the security guard warned me.
The store closes in 10 minutes, sir.

Just like that
I wandered
and the suddenness of night chills my marrow.

The streets are like an old friend
seen for the first time in a while
familiar but different
changed, in the same old way.
I walked for hours tonight, catching up but keeping distant
not wanting to broach anything too uncomfortable,
the off-chance of renewed friendship too precious to endanger.
Still moist from my previous sin
damp with danger
that book was still in my pocket.

She catches my eye, her intangible glow
stolen from inspiration itself.
Please please please give me a piece of that smile
Bask me, treat me, broil me, goddess of the brown bean.
Girlfriend at the new apartment, still moist from my previous sin
the question in my eyes, not my words.
Would you roast me, coddle me, buy and sell my very soul?
I'm sorry, just what you see on the menu, sir.

Just like that
I wonder
Can she read the double entendre in my chai tea latte?
The suddenness of espresso lights my eyes
like an old hit song

boxes
confusion
dis

organ

ization

Where the hell did we get that lamp?
I still can't find the light switches in the new apartment.

But God, it's good to be home.