Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?
Poetry I am there,StandingIn the bathroom.There are wooden floors.They creak just loud enoughTo announce my lover’sPadding footsteps –Light as they float back into our bed –After waking in the nightTo get a glass of water,Or turn off the fan. The door is openAndI stand in the bathroom. My head is tiltedAs I follow theLine of …