New on the Market, Serene and Tranquil
O my love it’s perfect what we’ve done
Tyvek and tarpaper
Spandrel and spackle
Foundation and fireplace flue
Peaked roof to slough off
The driving snows of Venice Beach.
Four thousand square feet
Serene and tranquil
Two point seven mil to build.
A deal. Let’s not flip it yet.
O my love, every sixteen inches
Bolts join cripple wall to wood.
Come tsunami, bolts will blow.
The house will rise and float
An Ark to save ourselves.
Ocean breeze by day.
And o my love, at night
The windows close,
Nitrogen inert between the double panes
We’ll never have to hear our neighbors
Or the helicopter rotors or the whining of the sirens.
O my love, I know your fears
The motor homes
The hulking bus conversions
Parked along our street like elephants of war
The vagrant Vandal army lining Lincoln.
But not to worry, puella. We are ready.
Surveilled and secure, I’ve stocked the Panic Room
With wireless and food enough for many days
An en suite bathroom in that tile that you like.
O my love
Let’s plant milkweed in its season
Bringing Monarchs back to our Republic.
Let’s brew pu-erh in the bath
Sipping while we soak: it’s free trade from Sri Lanka.
Let’s promenade the Boardwalk
Discreetly watching men who juggle chainsaws
Tatted iron-heaving men, bare-chested
Men who skate the pavement singing.
We will listen. But let’s not sing along.
Let’s toss a quarter in and go.
O my love let’s eat and drink
And code and wryly rut.
Let’s hire help to do the washing.
We’re in a drought. We’ll watch our water use.
No pool, no lawn, no children here.
Let us live and love like this until
Your smarmy smile makes me sick until
You gag at once-familiar odors from my body
Until we’re bored and bored of being bored.
O my love and then we’ll part,
Each to another house
This time, even bigger
For as we grow in wisdom
We will want our window-walls
So vast that God can find us
When He wants to have a chat.
But for now, my love: