The Scream

Real anger.
I’m talking seething wrath,
the kind we try to pretend we don’t have,
the kind we almost effortlessly now keep contained,
the kind that long ago went to live in a kernel in our soul,
which, when heated, threatens to burst open but never does:
it’s that kinda stuff. I think I know what two-year-olds are made of.
I think they’re made of “buyer’s market” home-sellers reincarnated.
They’re a flesh metaphor for the emotions summoned by 45 showings:
All the tiring hours……endlessly tiring hours……of diligently cleaning up,
of occupying kiddos……without even their toys……lest they play like kids,
having to dine out…………..(which costs $$$$)…….. to accommodate lookers,
only to learn that the……..lookers didn’t look………were yet another no-show.
Those fitful, fretful tantrums thrown on linoleum, carpet, whatever ya got,
those little kernels combusting? Those are the embodiment of the seller’s soul.
Good people feel backed into a corner, ready to tear through realty contracts
(using their teeth of course) and fantasizing about leaving flaming bags of poo
on the doorsteps of fickle buyers who don’t know baby missed a nap thanks
to them, and little girl can barely play in her playroom because of them,
and spouses again got ZERO………….quality time together because of
them, because of freaking…………….furiously cleaning for them
(did I mention cleaning?)…………….They feel THAT hysterical.
Wanting mature trees……………… needing a bigger kitchen,
preferring a big yard………………….seeking a closer bus stop,
wanting a nice hot tub……………….but no 1st-floor bedroom:
All those good reasons…………..for not buying our home
seem also good reason…………to never even look at it.
They also seem good……………..reason to fling feces,
stomp our little feet……………..rip out people’s hair,
abuse high octaves…………….kick like bad Ninjas,
fastpitch breakables…….scream interminably,
refuse any solace…….curse in tongues,
topple houseplants, and just plain cry.
But since we can’t do that,
because we’re grown,
we quietly simmer.
We quietly seethe.
We quietly wait
for an offer.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in humor, real estate. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s