not going to the swann’s

i envy yr indoor pool of kois

yr antiquated bookcases

old photos of yr great great great grandpapa—a national hero

i think of the dull surface of my marble floor

i envy yr old money petit palais

yr within walking distance night market

you just got back from a chauffeured trip to solotigo

i think of commotions in economy aisles

i envy yr suburban château

yr separate servants’s quarters

hydro tulips growing under your bed

i think of sloshing rat droppings off my driveway

yet i think of you child, yr lip bruised by a spoon

yet i envy nothing, i’m safer than a house