habitat, or forgetting things

cheyenne is nestling in the
corner and dan is on the
floor explaining scrabble.
ai is a word. za is another.
and two extra points for this.
piles of blankets and candles
and hot soups, computers,
mackenzie is putting the cramps
on the record player.

he put on his orange hat before he
left, waved goodbye sayin
see ya later.

we have de-flated balloons and rainbow
flags and too many plastic bags
and ali's grandma's doily sittin
on our tv that doesn't work, we
haven't even noticed. i'm
lookin at the want ads askin
when will it be my turn?
its just around the corner,
almost there, i'm the next big
thing. we have pictures of
langhorne slim and tegan and
sara and all those really cool
indie people all our musical
obsessions congruent with our
emotional torrent, our religious
hang ups, the hurricane of events,
the latest break up, the thing he
last said, the unwelcome person,
the person we are trying to be.
sittin on the porch huddled in
the cold spittin we got in a fight
i don't know what to do. and
i have a problem and i'm leavin
the country soon, i'm scared.
we've got books books on social
work and paris and middle eastern
politics and sex and theater movements
and how to teach kids and how to speak
english and some with only photographs.
they be learnin' us good. all the
time busy all the time just
wanting to read our own books
all the time just wanting to
write our own books. about the places
we've been and what we think about
humans and the first time we fell
in love and other less important things.
all the time dancin' dancin' with
skates and dancin' on our green carpet
to old music dancin' with lovers hands
on chests fingers on chins hair brushing
past eyelashes singing lips parting
feelin' good forgetting everything
forgetting about no money for
christmas gifts or rent or bills and
forgetting about addictions and
fights and break ups and sadness
just bein'. just dancin'. just bein'.