Staying at Ed's Place

I like being in your apartment, and not disturbing anything.

As in the woods I wouldn't want to move a tree,

or change the play of sun and shadow on the ground.

The yellow kitchen stool belongs right there

against white plaster. I haven't used your purple towel

because I like the accidental cleft of shade you left in it.

At your small six-sided table, covered with mysterious

dents in the wood like a dartboard, I drink my coffee