Lorraine Feather Home Alone
I stare at the skylight,
The onrushing twilight,
Small, angry clouds in my view.
Darkness encroaches,
The old thrill approaches;
Raindrops begin their tattoo.
No one to hold me,
Scope me or scold me.
Makes me quite giddy somehow.
Adrift and ungrounded,
Illusions unbounded,
Feels good as the law should allow.
Though I like playin' tag with the bad guys,
Haulin' tail down the California coast,
In a world full of grifters and gadflies,
I discovered what beguiles me the most.
I don't know and baby, I don't even try to know
Why I never wind up waiting by the phone,
But I'm happy in my own private Idaho.
What I love is bein' home alone.
I buy food and flowers.
Work till all hours,
The silence not always profound,
Clean up for a while,
Then run for a mile.
The best part is turning around.
I succumb to romance on occasion.
I submit that I'm human after all,
Though a master of wily evasion,
When I feel any danger I could fall.
I can visit someone else's little hideaway.
There are memories that
Make me want to moan,
But as surely as the moon pulls the tide away,
I'll be contented going home alone.
Though I like playin' tag with the bad guys,
Haulin' tail down the California coast,
In a world full of grifters and gadflies,
I discovered what beguiles me the most.
I don't know and baby, I don't even try to know
Why I never wind up waiting by the phone,
But I'm happy in my own private Idaho.
What I love is bein' home alone
With my old oak floors,
And my dark red doors...
Mornings when a whisper seems to wake me,
It's just the distant bark of sea lions out at sea.
"I love being single. It's almost like being rich."
-Kinsey Millhone
