It is raining. And
my neighbour has her leaf
-blower

All I want to do
is watch these clouds formations
and listen to music
of the Spanish renaissance.

If that’s wrong,
I don’t want to be right.

You know when you stay the night
at a relative’s house
and you get
the scratchy blanket?

You know the one.
It’s made of wool.
It has a satiny trim
that tries to deceive you
into thinking this will be
a nice blanket experience.

But it’s not.
Every house has one.
It’s buried deep in the bowels
of the linen closet, under some
afghans and a comforter with the down
coming out, but make no mistake…
the scratchy blanket is there.
It’s waiting
for you.