I was looking for the corkscrew in the junk drawer

I was looking for the corkscrew in the junk drawer

and found your architecture instead.

A square box, a triangle hat, a yellow door

bolted to a world of wax and lead.

There is a chimney with a single, aggressive loop

of purple smoke that never drifts away.

No mortgage, no rot, no sagging front stoop,

just a sun in the corner that’s decided to stay.

I’m babysitting stability I don't possess.

I check the locks and worry about the rain.

You draw four windows with a steady press

of a hand that hasn’t yet met a windowpane.