wild zillow 

i hope to one day have a stranger house. 
i don't have enough secrets. in this world, i should
really be stocking up. 
i love those videos of zillow listings where
you can't tell if the house was a cult
or a sex thing or both. i see one with stop lights
& one with sea creatures mounted on 
the ceiling. we all have desires 
to make the world what we want.
i sometimes do zillow exploring 
all by myself. i open doors & closets. i say,
"that's not bad for three bedrooms"
as if we could afford any of it.
once, i was opening doors & i saw
my childhood bedroom just as it used to be.
the rainforest. a working water fountain &
siren sounds of tree frogs laughing
beneath my bed. you think i'm poetry-ing
but i'm not. my father, if left to his own devices,
would be a zillow gone wild home-owner.
i think we should install more doors to nowhere.
more windows full of bricks.
i am sick of functionality. i want 
the nest to be as absurd as it is to be
alive right now while people are being stolen
from their ice cream places. from their schools.
without hands & with them. i have 
started to encourage people to
stop staying "they can't" & start imagining
what would happen if they did. 
this exercise goes both ways. we could make
a bunk full of windows to heaven. we could
buy a house in the middle of nowhere
& cover ever surface with mirrors or 
shag carpet or photographs of a dead lover.
when mary oliver beauitfully said,
that "one wild precious life" thing i don't think 
she meant what i mean. i mean i need 
a stuffed animal attic. i need a zebra print 
dining room where no one can eat but us. 
i mean a tv room where the only door 
is a hole you cut with a box knife 
every time you have to come or go.