I want everybody to live very close

I want everybody to live very close.
I want to borrow, I want to bike over
in house shoes for a game of cards
on the porch with some tea or digestif.
I want animals around and wind chimes
above our heads. Somebody is cooking,
I brought the bread. Players come and go,
a candle is lit to keep away the bugs.
Dogs need to be fed, “Turn the record over.”
Song plays through the screen door,
chatter trickles out from the kitchen.
Someone comes back from surfing,
pulls a bag of oysters out from the
backseat of the car, lookie here.
There is little distinction between what’s
mine and yours. Where we sleep tonight
and under whose roof matters not very much.
When we part, we see each other again
in the water or walking to the mailboxes.
When we stay together: on the sofa,
on the floor, into deep listening and
burning midnight oil, then in the morning
one of us will rise and cut some fruit,
make some coffee and tea, but not the same
person who did it last time because
in this house we take turns.
In this house we dance.

By @lordcowboy