revolving doors

"He doesn't live here anymore," or so I'm told.

but he's still sitting on the couch, in the next room

"We're changing the locks," they tell me,

But I can hear him on the stairs

and I can tell he's just left the room

because no one else leaves a trail of lights and televisions left on behind them quite like him.

"Lock the deadbolt."

It's like Guantanamo

but more indecisive