Uncouth Difference

The pile of April’s belongings spill over the countertop,

mixing with all of our new purchases.

She bought normal goods, like

dish soap, a vacuum, hangers.

She brought normal possessions, like

towels, a notebook, rain boots.

When we recycled the boxes from move-in

and the dishes began to pile up next to the sink,

our belongings lined up in their places.

Her purse was flung on her desk, just like mine

and our iPods were both connected to our computers.

Her calculator was on the table and mine on the couch.

We had our cameras out to document

as we arranged our boots in our closet

and our clothes in our drawers

and even the cleaners under the sink.

Everything now is orderly and in their places,

except for a something, a strange thing.

Every single one of April’s possessions

is yellow.

(Carly Boucher)