It finally clicked why my ex still lives rent free in my head even though she broke the sink.
She isn’t the only tenant.
The place is packed.
Literature occupies half the rooms.
Philosophy keeps strange hours.
The Iliad and The Odyssey won’t stop arguing in the hallway while Pablo Neruda and Octavio Paz watch.
Yvain has apparently been living there for years with a lion and neither has paid a dime in rent.
Somewhere down the hall, Where the Red Fern Grows is still making people cry and next to it is The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse.
A dusty copy of Business Math for Nerds sits in the corner wondering where it all went wrong.
Music occupies the upper floors.
Cerati owns a penthouse.
Thievery Corporation runs a lounge.
Pantera and Metallica are constantly getting noise complaints.
Nas is leaning on a balcony rail watching the sunset.
And someone keeps blasting cumbias from the parking lot.
The apartment itself isn’t bad.
It has a nice balcony.
A small grill.
A comfortable chair.
A view of the Texas sunset.
A garden blooming with colors and fragrances.
The kitchen might be littered with beer cans and booze, but the aroma of fresh home cooked meals is always lingering.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe I’ve spent years focusing on the tenant who doesn’t belong there.
While ignoring all the ones who do.
The truth is my ex isn’t occupying the building.
She’s renting a tiny room.
The rest of the property belongs to me.
And business is booming. NO FREE RIDE!
Sinister †Publications 
Leave a comment