Coming Home After a Bad Blind Date
All the bottles of cream and mousse and spray
are still sitting on top of the toilet
the light switch is still on the left
there's still
carpet
there's still
tile
there's still a basket of clothes
made of all the same fabrics
the room is not colder or hotter
the coats are still on the hooks the cigarettes
still in the bag.
There are still four dusty margarita glasses sitting on a shelf and
a yellow phone
the ashtray has the same weight nobody moved the pictures
there's still white paint on the walls and a magnetic strip with
postcards
the dishes have the same ridges the banister still has a dent
the earrings are laid out like they always are the boxes still have
corners
the backyard feels the same that tree hasn't grown that hole hasn't
deepened
nobody's burnt down the shed the same people are sleeping upstairs
the bed has four pillows and two sheets the doors all close the
same
the lights don't look any brighter the taps don't flow any faster
the sweaters don't drape differently on the hangers the air goes
through the same vents
(this is the problem with wanting) all the bottles of cream and
mousse and spray
are still sitting on top of the toilet the light switch is still on
the left
there's still carpet there's still tile there's still a basket of
clothes
made of all the same fabrics the room is not colder or hotter
the coats are still on the hooks the cigarettes still in the bag
the copper still on my eyelids.