city of apples – a poem

my friends live in a cluster

in the city of lights

or is that Paris

they’re in the city of apples

you know which one

i’m 3 hours north

living my quiet

domestic

life

by the seaside

nestled in the theater forest

with the foghorns

and homemade ice creams

and living in a Victorian mansion

with rent free ghosts

i live simple

easy

free

and i wonder what I’m doing there

when i should be running around

picking up apples

off the street

sometimes I wonder

who are the lucky ones.