Tom Waits = Cookie Monster
Sitting in my chair, the one I call ‘green leather’ but is actually vinyl, the dog erupted towards a sound outside. He stood at the kitchen with his head cocked, listening, and I looked up from my book. It must have been the framing of him in the doorway or the light, but I instantly felt that this is my home. That is my dog.
And the structure of the room made sense,
like my place in it at that moment.
