Watching well into the night again
to see if the couple who clearly
do not understand one another
will finally make up their minds
and decide to either love it or list it,
whether they will muster up the courage
to pick the fixer-upper or the budget-buster,
or will remain, still miserable, in their
current house, obviously not a home.
I’ll take the rental on the top floor in Paris
in spite of the steps and the small closets,
or the two-bedroom on the beach in Costa Rica
with the view of ocean breakers that never quits.
So what if the kitchen lacks a dishwasher,
and the toilet flushes only with the aid of a bucket.
Forward my mail to Greenland, where I’ll claim
that house perched high on a rock
they say is too small for two.