House of Azaleas
and I am cat people.
My room was never mine
And I hated the mirror and windows for the
longest time. I was the gatekeeper and watch-guard
there, on the corner by the road, hedged in by
headlights and demons with my things all
crammed in Wal-Mart shelves unable to breathe or look fine.
But it wasn't the house's fault.
I liked it
better before they tore the redwood paneling
out and painted over the red bricks in the kitchen.
It was what it was then,
dark and woodsy, not a whitewashed tomb. I
didn't want them to fix it,
but that wasn't the house's fault.