what i really want

Posted: January 3, 2011 in transliteration

I don’t want a house.

I want a building; just a step up from a shack where I can live above a storefront on a street where people gate off their windows and doors at night. Upstairs, I want to leave the four deadbolts unlocked and the windows open to feel the cold damp drafts during the rainy season, and hear the trains roar past. I want a weak and spotty satellite signal and brownouts; power surges to nudge the antiquated appliances awake in the middle of the night and have them lulled back to sleep by the drip of tainted faucet water into watering cans–water to feed the plants choking out the light and basking in the breeze from every window. Cut flowers fade fast, and metal irritates my skin.

I don’t want a ring. I don’t need a yard with a fence. I’m still uncertain of the rest…although, I would really love a dog.

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