When I was a kid my best friend and I had two token cubby houses. One in the closet that was beneath the staircase at my parents’ place, and one that was built up in between a triangular formation of trees in the woods behind her parents’ house. Her brother liked to think of it as ‘his fort’… what little did he know…

I find that every place I end up living has some type of area about it that turns into a 21st century cubby house. Presently it’s a room full of windows. I’ve also had back porch playhouses and a room with ceilings reaching only about four feet high with a sloping floor.

I’ve lived in many different places.

Thank God I’m moving inner city!! We have over-extended our time in the suburbs of Brisbane although the beaches and hinterland are enough to keep just about anyone locked in for a bit.

First stop Melbourne… next stop New York City… I wrote this poem on the train this morning. I thought about changing the title, but for some reason it makes me happy.

I’m pretty excited about the travel down south. Nothing says poetry like a 1000 mile road trip.

… in a Toyota Yaris with puppies.

yes i would (like a picnic)

He hears
music. My song
Clock erase
Sitting on a park bench.
Toe taps.
Look back
your shoulder.
A rhythm of
Walking inside
Two goodbyes
We all went