After graduation, my sister wanted two things: to be in New York, and to do some math. It was a list that required a bit of acrobatics, as she preferred Manhattan, and Manhattan preferred 30 year old men with experience.
After a few agonizing months of rejection, my sister landed an accounting job in Brooklyn.
She found two women from her college who were also looking to move to New York, and, wouldn’t ya know it, also preferred Manhattan. (Did I mention she went to a private school?)
They eventually found a three-bedroom within their price range, in a location they all deemed suitable. The catch? Instead of a living area, they have a bar counter and a stool.
And oh yeah, my sister’s bedroom has no window.
I thought there was something hilariously appropriate about this, so I wrote a poem.
It goes like this:
Space to Move
This is space in The City.
A kitchen for brushing teeth
A place to sit
A drawer for socks
How lucky I am
Even without a window
In the bedroom.
I sleep with my eyes shut
Anyway.
This one was for you Mol. I love you.
Girl Seeking Peanut Butter 