i never got a chance to own my own home so in my next life

i’m haunting one.

not some old red brick victorian mansion with original oak doors
and native plants lining the rustic stone walkway and turtle pond
but one of those new modern smart homes where people can send
messages from their refrigerator and know what the weather is outside
by shouting at their ceiling instead of opening their window (with some
remote control button). the home with marble bathrooms and scented oils.

also, i’m haunting this home as a raccoon.

as a raccoon everything i perceive in that house is either food
or trash. my hands map the world, sense of touch heightened
by water. i dip my hands and feet in a muddy puddle before leaping
on top of the newest cybertruck model, being sure to touch as many
unnatural sleek surfaces as possible before reinvigorating my fingers
with mud. then i run inside track across the carpet that is so white
white white it feels so right to run and leap and bound across it like
how i see their perfectly groomed white white white toy poodle do.

mapping the house with my hands, i pull open drawers just to hear
the silverware rattle themselves. i help myself to the organic bananas
hanging on the plastic hanger just for bananas that looks like no tree
i have ever seen, but like a child’s skeleton idea of a tree if it was only
made to hold and not hear the sound of rain. on the counter i see a magazine
open to the page on how to get rid of urban pests, with a picture of
my third cousin holding an apple slice next to an open trash bin. much
to the annoyance of homeowners is the ending phrase following.

all the things raccoons like myself can do—not just solve puzzles and locks,
but remember solutions to them. open doors that have been toddler-proofed.
open. open. open. while humans bring the post-anthropocene apocalypse
to this planet, i can still remain to haunt and open jars of cherry preserves.
who else would eat them? the world is mine to touch. the world is mine to
open. much to the annoyance of homeowners. but i’m not a homeowner

and i never was.