Real

In which the studio
grows L-shaped, with an alcove
for the bed, you modest dream, in which the railroad

widens sideways, new door
a sudden wing ought to invade the brownstone
next door, but that brownstone loses nothing in the dream

in which another room
it’s huge, with grand piano and French doors
opening on a view of my private beach, why have I never bothered

going in this room before?
Those years obedient to time is money when
it’s space that’s time, every tenant diligently building out the common night