Everything was so realistic
but wrong, the bathroom
was in the wrong place
the windows on the wrong sides
of the cute little house and
the furniture was not mine,
neither were the plants.
My actual former landlady
and I had a minor argument
about plant ownership.
“What a cute pot,” she pointed
to the window, “Are you taking it
“No, it’s not mine,” I replied.
“Sure it is, but I’d like a plant
like that in my kitchen,” she countered
and requested in her not so subtle style
of asking for one of “my” belongings
while complimenting it at the same time.
“It’s yours now.” It was a statement of
truth and it will make her happy.
Her tenants tend to leave half of their
crap for their landlord to remove.
I got to live late fee free because I
had to clean out the 600 square foot
garage at the real house I rented from her.
Ah, memories… real ones.
Dead creatures, broken furniture
more Christmas lights than I know
what to do with and a chair I let
my neighbors chop up with axes.
The makings of a meth lab
scattered and discarded for
the new tenant to remove
from the property ASAP!
Brain chemistry alterations
cause extra vivid dreams,
if I weren’t already gifted with
vivid dreams I might be excited
by these forays into someone
else’s memories, but I’m getting tired
of waking up in terror
as I wet the bed
in a dream hoping that
I didn’t in real life.
Psychiatrists have no idea, me thinks.