By John Grey
I sing in your shower.
Hopelessly out of tune.
I eat at your table.
The food is not great
but edible.
On a par
with my mother’s cooking.
The conversation is varied.
Small talk,
larger issues,
then back to small talk again.
The sex is admirable
because it’s so long
since we’ve had
anything to compare it to.
And the sleep is sound
despite your operatic snores.
In other words,
I’ve moved into your place.
My observations
came too.
Copyright© 2021 by John Grey
Undivided Magazine 