Where We Live

Eleven-thirty and I’m the first one up.

There’s still broken glass on the kitchen floor
from where a drink was dropped the night before.

The dog’s got his nose in the garbage bag again.

 

A half-full glass of milk sits on the counter.
How long since it congealed?

Got no clean dishes,
an unfed turtle
and the leftover spring rolls.

 

No privacy.
Bathroom locks don’t fit right
or bolt tight.
You can hear the basement
conversations
from the bedrooms above.

 

The walls pulsate
with a million absorbed vibrations
of a badly-plucked bass guitar.
The floor creaks under old carpeting,
wearing the remains of the cat’s winter coat.
The bedroom door’s bad hinges compel it to close
and the couch’s springs groan.

 

My life was such a mess
when we lived there.

I wish I had never left.

Reviews

[Lola Nation]

Interesting responses to this poem. I thought it was a fun read - a good fluff to a dirty pillow.

[Scott A. Williams]

Ah, but there's such a thing as too precise. Our narrator is wandering around the house, sees the milk, and then realizes he doesn't remember who left it there or when. So with uncertainty he asks himself, "How long since...?" I'm not the kind of guy who argues with his critics out of habit, but your comment made me think about why I put it that way it begin with. I also like the rhythm when I read it out loud.

As to the end, you have a point, but again I'll defend -- after spending the entire piece detailing everything the narrator sees, in rather heavy detail, it all leads back to this one simple thought - and I think the simplest thoughts are the ones that stay with us - "I wish I had never left."

[Ms. Gruye]

I am not a fan of questions in poems. simply because I want the questions raised to be my own (oh snap that rhymes). Ergo:

How long since it congealed?

could be changed to:
A half-full glass of congealed milk sits on the counter.

I would immediately think, how long has that been there. and your work as a poet is cut in half! Also, I feel the concept of this poem was rushed in the last stanza. You delivered these great images and sounds and then quickly wane philosophic. if you could somehow reach the same sentiment through images, the piece would stand stronger.

viva la

[angelina neves]

Lovely!
:) I "never left" so my life was and is always full with mess!

[J.P. Bristow]

Such a mess...a wonderful delightful mess...You write of memories that everyone can relate to...my boyfriend in Uni was just like that dirty and delicious....... and that house full of friends was everything. Was always my favorite place to sleep for the house literally breathed----

great write!!!