i live on the first floor
folks just knock right on my window
and when i open the door i'm ready
for anyone, especially people i don't know

yesterday two big guys
came asking questions
i had a knife in my pocket
in case they didn't just come with questions

and then today, two visits
and i open the door without a weapon
since both weren't too threatening, this time,
i've seen them both naked

i was leaning back on the fridge
shirt open, sipping tea, as if i wasn't on an edge of a blade
nodding and smiling, the way a professor does
when a student comes in to ask for a change of grade

and thinking now, in the peace of a lonely thanksgiving
sober, wearing nothing but boxers, facing a humming fan
my life has passed just like that from year to year
with different brain and bra sizes stopping by to see that i'm still a man

but today, i wish things were different
because bukowski's dog from hell has been drinking up my blood and sweat
i came outside in a scarf and t-shirt to smoke a cigar
without my phone, thinking of why the hell i ever moved out of my third floor apartment