PUT ME BACK WHERE I BELONG

Somehow my mind thinks I’m meant to be spending my summer entertaining company out on the deck, overlooking the yard, attached to the house that I no longer live in and will never live in again.
I can feel the vinyl floor against my feet in the garage, I can see everything exactly how it was. I smell the cool breeze coming through the screen. I wait for the flowers and see the bees. Daffodils first, then tulips. Must be patient for the rhododendrons, peonies and lilies, the climax of the summer song.
I feel my feet in the pool and I fear the bees. I see Boomer wandering around in the yard and the neighbors cat perched on the fence staring at me through the window. I hear the neighbor’s country music blaring and I see her laying out on her deck collecting skin cancer.
I feel the driveway against my feet, I feel the porch and the grass. I pick the flowers and run from the bugs. Everything is coming back alive today at that house, I can feel it. Life is there now.
As for me, I can’t open the windows that I can barely see out of here. I need to let some life in. I almost want to break them, but they appear to already be broken, otherwise, they would open. I guess I can relate to the windows, anyway. I despise the feeling of this carpet against my feet. I hate the mess that is here in every sense of the word. I hate this mess that is me and that which I create.