The renter. February 4, 2008

“I need to buy land. I want to own a piece of the United States. I want a home.”

Those were the words from a nearby table that gravitated to my ear as I was sitting in a café. The phrases instantly struck my mind, cutting off circulation to all other thoughts at that moment. It made me think about the concept of owning land vs. renting.

As a renter I often think about the concept of “home” and how we create it. I’ve explored this idea in songs and essays, but never in a poem–until now. This poem is in its earliest stage-but I wanted to share it anyway. Who knows, my edits and lengthening may ruin it, so I might as well share it while it’s raw.

 

Transient

 

I am the eternal wandering soul

renting the concept of home

and sending the custody check for my floors

to the landlord

 

I paint the walls with black and white

pictures of my life

temporary tattoos that I constantly reapply

but I tell everyone they’re real

and they don’t believe me

 

Underneath these pictures

behind the couch

are scars from other wanderers

Who left their “home”

like they would leave their lover

vulnerable

empty

until someone else comes along

to fill the space

and cover the walls

until it gets cold again

too cold to stay

 

I carry letters

with different street names

and numbers

where I used to sit

and have notes sent to

but I’m gone

before the ink can dry

in anyone’s address book

 

The land of the free

where I am free of land

Painting imaginary walls of home

that I wipe clean with boxes

and moving tape

 

Maybe one day in spring

I’ll find a room with a chair

to sit in

and the branches

will push through the windows

and wrap their new sprouts

around each finger

resting buds on my wrist

and when they blossom

I’ll decide to stay

and watch it change to winter

 

stay for a while

maybe then

maybe.