“Well shit”
I hope to live
to the day
where we can call in sick
and still get paid
we can open the door
to a marbled floor
and fit in the same bath
cursive “hot” and “cold” labels
barely lit
by the sun
fighting its way
through stained glass
a furnished wooden table
import from New Zealand
where we sip tea
coffee
and champagne
selected from an iron
rusted shelf
and hanging
in a red room
a painting of a mountain
because you love them
and you can lay in my lap
by a fire
your face
tinted orange
telling me stories
of your past
But for now
its trash-bag raincoats
and dirty windows
non-scented soap
and bickering neighbors
at least there is love
I hope to live
to the day
_______________
Kyle Perdue is a student at UCSD and writes poetry to vent the craziness that surrounds him. Though poetry is a recent hobby of his, the passion he holds toward it is heavy.