portion of the artwork for Anthony R. Cordello's poetry

B as in Boy
Anthony R. Cordello

The elevator was just wide enough
for a queen-sized bed, a nightstand,
a floor lamp, an oak writing desk,
a couch with a chaise, a bar in a globe,
but I had to stop the thought there.

No way I could afford the rent if
the parking garage rate kept gutting me.
But if I got a roommate, built partitions,
set up quiet hours, took turns getting milk
and toilet paper, then it might make sense.

It might make enough sense to get a third,
create a household in fire service mode.

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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 53 | Spring/Summer 2019