Sailor & I

We were born here.  At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.

I'll tell you how sad I was.  Enough to call my highschool principal and ask him out on a date.  Enough to walk around the house naked for a month pretending I didn't have anything suitable to wear. And when you asked me to put on some pants I said I just didn't have anything suitable to wear.  And you came over and rested your hands on top of my head, parting my hair into two equal parts. You said, these are the two parts you keep in.