Home sweet hole-in-the-wall

Oh, apartment how I love thee, my loyal studio,
the window well above thee, the dive bar down below.
Your window well is covered, so cleverly stopping all light
from entering the windows with frames as black as night.

I love the boldly checkered floor
which signifies with ease
Five feet of kitchen by the door
with everything I need.

I love your brave little patch of carpet meant to signify
that this is the "bedroom" upon which the ikea pad should lie.
I love the camaraderie with which my clothes and heater share the closet,
and the covert way the hamper waits under the keyboard for a deposit. 

On a Sunday morning in my little room I happily awaken
to take a refreshing shower above the wafting smell of bacon
...Which comes to me from the dive bar kitchen twenty feet below.
Oh little apartment with no ventilation, how I love you so. 

This poem would be incomplete without my gratitude
to the dive bar owners who let me steal their Wifi without attitude.
And also to my friendly neighbors who brighten up my days
with their witty banter and sarcastic humor as we go our hipster ways.

I'll always remember my time spent here
in one-hundred-and-fifty square feet.
My little oasis where my head is clear
and my heart in comfort beats.