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)
music. My song
Sitting on a park bench.
A rhythm of
We all went