Your ghost fits my skin

Rearranging the house takes my mind off of it. I watch football in between the lifting and carrying and taking down and placing back up. Football reminds me of winter. So does this room i'm in.

I've moved the BIG screen t.v. into a different room. You know that room where nobody ever goes into? A living room that you never see anyone actually living in. Although she has been on that couch.

I changed it all up an now I'll be using the supple leather sofa and I am surrounded by great artwork and books, and this is where I put the Christmas tree come December. so now i am in there and it smells like Halloween candy corn and ghosts of past Holidays. It feels different.

cleaning, moving, shaking. the addiction still lingers. always there, underneath it all. always hidden. always waiting. I go through fits of rearrangement. my home, my job, my music, my life.

and I have a wife that my girlfriend would know about. and I have you that i can't resist. Everyone else tends to know me for the wrong reasons. words and repetition. recall and tattoos.
striped socks and panties pulled to the side. glasses, no glasses. an over active imagination. dirty. A girl coming to visit. disaster. A girl leaving. heart break.

I've mixed things around in the bedroom too.
moved the bed to near the window, the dresser, the vintage cedar love chest. lying on the bed they start to feel like they belong. Would she ever have felt that too?
Now, my head faces north when I sleep, in the direction you are now. in the direction of snow and winters. the furniture has moved. There has been change but nothing has changed only became more certain, more real. I've shamelessly borrowed her memories and stories, rearranged things and I've made them mine. her body, her shape, she finally feels familiar.