APR 17

The Stiff Drink 

One day we stood at the front door

which opened to a vestibule, 

which opened to a foyer, which 

opened to a dining room, which 

opened to a new universe

(we had expected a sunroom),

the same kind of revelation 

we had when we forgot our house

had a sunroom and felt a pang 

of envy when we noticed one 

on the street, not ours, the wistful

longing of not ours, which opens

to a yearning for not ours which 

opens to a resignation 

of not ours which opens to a 

resentment of not ours (we had

expected to need a stiff drink).