Building a home

(6 August 1991) after Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

If we had money or time we could have fixed it up quickly. The bare walls echo from the walls around the fireplace and will until I build shelves there the way we want. But this is our home and this our love; we pay monthly for it to the bank. Nothing is perfect or nothing is finished except in the mind but one eats and sleeps and shits in both places. I take pleasure in discovering the spiders that hide quietly in our rooms, putting them out the window. I also like the idea of the place. Love they say is when you believe in what your lover wants to be. A mutual deception, and love isn’t all bad. Not just a disordered place where we can talk, flop, wash pay the bills, dump the garbage hang pictures on the walls.