The Good Life by Susan Allison

The thing about good living

is that it happens, despite

plotting and planning, it happens

contrary to all devices. It happens

when you are renting the only room

you can afford and you somehow

catch the way the light is coming through

the broken dirty windows.

The door is open

and the wind blows in like balm.

It’s warm and you see the colors of the

faded gray frame of the door

against the rust-colored leaves

in the small patch of jungle

down by the alley.

The good life

comes through your eyes

and your ears and your skin,

the way a wild animal comes at you

when it is just curious.