MY KITCHEN

Crow, 12th- Oakland, CA
I don’t dream of growing old
But I do dream of a kitchen
That is all mine
It will have cracking linoleum floors
An oven that moves in the night of old age
And a rumbling fridge
And I will feel the sunlight when it is cold
I will totter through the cramped room in my underwear
Because it is all mine
The assortment of spices
The pot and the pan
And the teapot
All observe my life move on
The refrigerator will make indents in the floor
From the weight of memories