She led us out to the balcony

A 2^nd story addendum overlooking the sea

The walls inside were white

I envisioned myself like a kite

Floating down to the beach

Or inside, nestled by the fireplace

Or just outside, on my personal deck

Was it all a waste?

What the heck?

She said it was in the bylaws: no clothes or towels draped over the rails

It was a dealbreaker

I flashed to my home: my dog’s towels on the porch like sails

And my husband’s yoga mat

My swimsuit and snorkel

Her price talk and bylaws were a broken oracle

All the railings around the condos were bare

I knew we didn’t belong there

So we went back to our brick home

One story and a concrete slab of stoop

If we’re lucky a stray gull flies over

But the railings are decked out with swimsuits

And beach towels, dog blankets, yoga mats

Maybe a pumpkin or some clovers

Whatever makes us laugh

It’s the rhythm of our lives, what’s hanging on the rails

And all my neighbors have theirs: lights, flowers, boxes of nails

What’s on your porch isn’t gaudy

Or the lack of items haughty

Your porch, your balcony, your railings: are a vestibule, arms

All those little colored belonging are charms

I’ll sit on my porch and watch the gulls

Take it in during life’s swells and lulls

Happy to be where I am

The idea of better is a sham

I don’t want to go

Don’t need no condo