Lonely Has To Sleep Elsewhere

This past Friday,
I moved into my smallest bedroom
and gave my big room
to a weekend guest.

Too many rooms
to choose from.

I could have slept in
one with a larger bed,
but it was so neat in there.
I didn’t want to mess it up
with me,
and all that follows me.

My smallest room reminds me
of my first apartment.

I had a big green bedroom,
much larger than my childhood room.

And I had another tiny side room
with windows,
and barely enough room for a bed.

I never went in the big room
except when I passed out drunk
one night.

And I have the fondest memories
of the sunny small one.
It was even blue,
like my little room is now,
so that’s the one I chose.

I thought “This bed
will be too small”,
as I climbed in
when I’d had enough of
my day.

I slept there that night,
and another
and the next
and so on.

It’s been four nights now,
and my guest left
after three.

But I haven’t moved
back upstairs to the
big room,
and I’m not going to.

I’ve slept better
on that bed
in my smallest room
than I have anywhere else
in many years.

That small room,
that single bed,
they are perfect.

And given a moment of thought today,
there’s no doubt about why
this has always suited me,
then
and now.

There is only enough room
for GoGordy,
my doggies,
and me.

Lonely has to sleep elsewhere.

~ cj 2014.10.28