I sleep on the floor with a full set of sheets and a comforter,
Like I've made a home here.
I believe somehow that I live here because of that fact
That I own the house.
I bought it a few weeks ago.
Loved the tour.
Lots of privacy.
So I start to think,
I own this house
Why am I living in the living room?
It’s about time I decorated.
Second walking tour.
There’s a bear in in my sunken living room.
It seems pretty contained.
Caesarstone counters, hmm.
I pass the bear to look out the window of the front door.
I’ve shown the bear the way out,
The front door.
Pull the cat food off the top shelf so it smashes on the floor.
The bear is satisfied with the snack.
Another bear comes
Out of the echoing hallway.
She does not like cat food.
I run down the stairs,
Back to the living room I was living in,
Out the door with an all-the-way-across “push to open” handle.
The bear is right behind me,
Right on the other side of the door.
I hold it shut.
I am stronger than a bear.
How do phones work?
I look at mine.
I had just pulled out of my pocket.
Is that 411 or 911?