It occurred to me today that I live in the land of order.
You, of course, ever playing the opposite, live in disarray.
But it doesn’t bother me, you know–
I never know if you believe me when I say that.
But as I left the train station, after our conversation,
And walked along the gridded streets, beneath the concrete towers,
I noticed how well I fit into this city, discolored as I am:
A place for everything, and everything in its place.
You would not like it here, though you would enjoy visiting, I think.
But to be surrounded on every side by right angles and straight lines,
You’d shudder as you crossed your doorstep each day,
And you’d tip over the trash bin just to make the world right.
I will admit, there is an off-putting aura to the city.
I miss the nature I have known–alive, wild, imperfect.
Here, relegated to a street square, with evenly spaced trees,
The winding pebbled path seems a calculated contrivance.
So here I am, admitting our shared need for disorder in life–
Unsure of the proper balance, though you know which way I err.
Appreciative of and missing the mild chaos of your room,
I would never deny you the right to say ‘I told you so’.