Monday, April 24, 2017

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Four, Poem Nineteen

You and I Watch 
"House Hunters International"

The first couple moving to Paris
seem incompatible
but are far more pleasant
than the Iowa holdovers
whose wife and kids long for a yard
from city centers where a fence
won't look out of place.

You laugh at their cries for space.
Try moving to Boston, bitch.

We want to adopt the couple
moving to Rwanda, The Nanny
and The King of Queens
fawning over goat meat
and the prospect of a washer.

The narrator is lost without
affecting French, opting
to have them "Bust a move"
in an African continent
as the sports medicine guru
explains how a Fulbright
is kinda a big deal.

I know already the
long distance lover from Wales
is doomed to the "classic" look
of his slummy childhood homes
over modern decor

The California transplant
calls it all cold, no matter
how many fireplaces it has.

The teacher going from Texas
to Tortola has a husband
with no job and a broken wrist
on the first week. She wants
everything modern too.
Will the husband have his say?

I say no too quickly.
You laugh. This show's
making you more of a misogynist
than you already were!

End of episode, Teacher goes
with husband's first choice.
Two months later, he wants
his cast removed so I can 
rub your back with both hands.

You turn off the light. He's so sweet.

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