Two Little Houses

I love these two little houses on the west side of Dumfries, just north of East 30th. Not just the houses -- war houses built for young families after WWII -- but how they sit next to each other on the slope, as well as the plantings, in particular the pine that curls into frame. Or maybe it's how easy these houses are to picture that I like best about them, actors in my drama, which more recently feels like a comedy, if it could be said that Beckett and Melville were writers of them. Waiting for Bartleby? Imagine that. But this time Bartleby shows up, despite his preference.

I could stare at these houses all day long, I think to myself when the sun is out, the morning sun, in October or April when it's not so high. Everyone should have a house to live in. It is insane to me that, given the world's wealth and our technological advancements, we should have to enter a system of servitude in order to protect ourselves from the elements that contribute to that wealth. How can we change this? Is it as easy as knowing who to shame? There are many who no longer feel shame, nor are positively motivated by it. Same with pride. Looking at these houses, I can't imagine rage living inside them. Nor self-loathing, envy. It they did, it would show.