Every Poet Needs A Home

Apartment shopping is one of the scariest things that a person can do.

Quick back story:
A friend of mine had an awesome, crazy idea to start up a poetry house. What does this mean? It means assembling a crack team of artists who would be willing to share space, rent, stories, and time together.

Unfortunately, the memo must've been undersigned by dyslexia because the team cracked. People pulled out merely a week and a half before we were to move into the house. This happened after we had found a space that fit our needs. At least it also happened before we spent any money on applications.

I'm pretty sure Colorado's current heat wave is caused by our collective disappointment.

But poems are never finished.

And life is a poem. Why else would it be written in lines where people pray?

So we pushed our pens on to find new applications to sign.

Thus begins today's epic journey. And every journey needs a story.


The morning began normally enough. The sun rose as it is want to do. Birds chirped, I'm sure. I woke up to music. Improvisation has become one of my signatures; it's a key to my abilities. I improvise my way through so many things. Like music. Like conversations. Like looking for apartments.
With the internet disconnected from my current residence, I was thankful to have a smart phone which could assist in this search. In twenty minutes time, I had developed a list of 6 different complexes to which I'd pay a visit. I should've realized then that the complexity of this endeavor would be more than at first imagined.
The first stop led me to brightly colored apartments close to the local grocery store. The assistant manager greeted me with a light hand and bright smile. She answered my questions happily. I didn't have many as I had heard her explaining the pertinent points to a man who could only understand a quarter of what was said. Then she informed me that the next apartment would be available a mere 2 days after we needed it. To move there, we would need to store furniture and surf for two days' time. So I said, "Thank you for your time" and continued on my journey.
As a poet, I understand that mountains move, but I am no mountain. She spoke of erosion when I needed an earthquake or a volcano to assist in this quick shift. Yet all was not lost. I still had 5 places to check out.
The second spot was the definition of a bust. I couldn't find the housing office, heard screams of the local urchins emanating from what I imagined had become a room repurposed for unspeakable things, and got a generally bad vibration from this place: the kind that seismographs pick up – this was not the kind of earthquake I needed.
The third place was welcoming and kind even though I couldn't immediately find the leasing office. Upon finding the office, however, I stumbled into a meeting of three people. They scattered when I entered and, for a moment, I felt a chill pass through the air as though I was disrupting something. After speaking with the one in charge, I discovered that no housing was to be found here in time. Indeed, another bust. But at least I was handed a guide book that would surely show me more spots to visit on my adventure. And so again I set off.
Remarkably close, the next location loomed. As I entered its central courtyard, I caught the scent of freshly laid paint. The location's center pool was in the process of being painted a spritely blue. The new paint carried a scent of increased prices, and this scent reflected in the receptionist's demeanor. She leaned back with hands crossed. Asked, "So what are you looking to spend?" After the second time she asked, she grimaced when I finally said my price. She smirked and uncrossed her arms, leaned forward and gestured toward the door. It was then I realized that money moves people too. But not enough to extend a hand or ask for a name. This was not the place for me to rest my hat.
The fifth destination consisted of condominiums and was outside my price range. Space is one of the most expensive factors for renting. I can't afford space yet.
The sixth destination also did not have a place open in time for my purposes. However, it welcomed me nonetheless. A woman dressed in a lively orange greeted me but said that she could not tell me about this place. Regardless, she stood with me until the owner appeared. With a trash-bagged hand, the manager appeared and said hello. Asked up to the office, I followed and sat. There, they told me about which places to avoid and spoke with much warmth.
Although this would not be my home, they made me feel as though I could rest my burdens for a moment, take my shoes off, and just relax. They said that everyone has been through this, so it's okay to wonder where the next steps will lead. They assured me that it's okay to still feel uncomfortable even after making a security deposit. Sometimes even travelers need to hear that they are not alone and that home is not a place that should be out of anyone's reach. So Pat and Donna, if you read this, I want to thank you for allowing me to end my journey with a greater sense of ease than when it began.
And because every good story creates an Ouroboros, I came to call the first place which I visited to begin the leasing process.

I am moving on up.