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there was so much light at the house on the water
pouring in through the giant bay window, reflecting
off the yellow table. yoko was absorbed by heat
and delivered her kittens in my parents underwear drawer
one day after school when i was home alone. wolfie died
their. the chronology in a knotted mess. kaveh cried
throughout the night, but it was okay, i was finally not alone.
there were smiles and sunday boat parades. they bought
me a boat from marin surplus that could take me to the sea.
i manoeuvred it in between the yatchs and sailboats through
the canal. one night i took my dad to the mouth off the bay.
it was dark. he sipped his wine. the waves were strong.
i was only twelve maybe thirteen. i had kissed a girl and drunk
until i puked already, but he didn’t know about either.
he trusted me to steer the boat. i felt like a man. this was
the house where i knew i didn’t need them anymore.
the sunshine and the boats brought smiles and freedom.
i learned about led zeppelin and bob dylan there. i learned
about the power of turpentine to dilute stiffened dried paint
and release it unto a canvas. i learned the beauty of being alone.
sitting on the roof at night watching the stars, leaving the window
open, a cool breeze on my naked chest, as i fell asleep.
there was so much light at the house on the water
pouring in through the giant bay window, reflecting
off the yellow table.