this is how you build a house.

find land, claim a stake in it ­­–
no matter if someone else is already living there.

chop down all visible greenery,
then section off a designated quadrant,
this will be the lawn.

(fight, build) with tooth and nail
blood red splattering wood and bricks
this is to ensure a little piece of yourself
remains in the soon-to-exist.

make a roof,
so you can never see the stars.

make three walls,
install the fourth,
and never break it.

find someone whose eyes shine
bright; artificial contacts work as well –
they're there to replace stars that
you have already forgotten.

raise two.five kids,
watch them revel in that patch of
grass out front and never
tell your antsy little boy
about the forest out back (and a
couple of years ago).

feed them a steady diet of
marshmallow puffs and corn puffs
and cheese puffs and pray to yourself
they don't end up puffing a pipe.

follow the end of your youth,
through their beginning –
substitute sugarcane for the saccharine
goodness of daytime TV,
math + math = 2(math).

show them the universe –
in censored pictures of crossed-out stars
and tell them that pluto
is no longer a planet.

this is how you build a house,
in a couple of steps.

(it turns out you picked up the
wrong book from your public library.
this one says)

this is how you build a tomb.