The Emperor’s New Clothes

I’m on my own now, apartment hunting,
the apartment manager asks me if I’m legal.
Yes, I tell him, I’m fifty- nine.

He shakes his head and tries
to make me understand his English,
but I keep speaking Spanish.

We finally get the paperwork done.
One suitcase after twenty-six years
of honoring and obeying

just doesn’t seem right, huh?
Oh, yeah, and my treasured
notebook computer.

Sure, I get a lot of email, not from females,
mostly WWII Spam.
I hope the deadbolt keeps out memories of you.