Remember when we housesat?
There was no food and we ate
peanut butter and graham crackers in bed,
rolling in the crumbs?
You blew a hit into my mouth making TV housewives
orgasming over laundry detergent insanely funny
Snow drifted silently outside
We shut the curtains on it
Home, the giant living room oil stain seeped up again,
curled doglike at the foot of our bed,
<>
<>our roommate</></>
<><> Unit 2 still smelled like dirt</></>
<></>
<>one kid popped out each year</>
<>God provided, but did not clean<>></></>
<><>It didn't matter where we were</>
</>
My home was in your arms
Our bed, stained red futon, the Universe
Our daughter arrived and
I never left her side because
her life seemed as fragile as
a sculpture built of toothpicks
She grew, attended Kindergarten
I looked around
You weren't there
She put the found dollar bills, rolled up tight as milkshake straws,
into her piggy bank
a new one always appeared, pushed under the couch
You saw people in trees, wearing camouflage, watching the house
and bought a gun
We left
You stayed but
I still think of you when I eat graham crackers or peanut butter or see snow
or futons or dollar bills or oil stains or trees or people or breathe air