Freewrite 3

Our house makes me think we may live in a Jazz Club and not even know it (or notice). The kitchen, at least: piano progressions, wailing brass while the onions sizzle and the salad is shaken. The living room may be more closely linked to an opera house, with a cathedral ceiling & a baby grand for company. We sink back into the plush comfort of couches that are directed into the room, and towards the piano, rather than towards the TV, which shows where our priorities lie. The bedroom is a bookstore. Poems sheet the bed.