Apparently you weren’t downtown
You teased- gushing hot water at prodigious pressure, and then slowing to a drip when I was all soaped up- maybe you wanted me to reflect upon how lucky I was to have you
You were governed by a loco landlord- a 71 year old Spaniard who climbed ladders and did mid-air flamenco kicks to change position
The rent for your pleasures was kept, days late, in a leaky fridge
Your walls were paper-thin. My neighbours could hear the lyrics of songs I played, amongst other things…
Fire escapes were not your style- climb and leap across, kept me on my toes
My illegal roof party was probably one of the best days of my life
Looking back, roof cricket and footy were probably not wise
Guided by you I became a chef- a culinary artist, a cooker, cutter of veggies, adder of spices and scents, but alas not a washer of dishes
I also became a gymnast- leaping across the stairs and guiding the new couch through your voluptuousness, in a blizzard, is still one of the greatest things I’ve ever done
You crafted the most delightful memories for me and the ones I love
I’ll miss you. مع السلامة
