Dear The Basement,
You are very lovely. Super lovely. I’d like to tell you how I feel about you but it’s tricky, you’re too big and tingly to squish down onto a silly little page. When I first met you, to be honest, I was nervous. I was also very smelly, with a runny nose and bloodshot eyes – I came strait from the airport. But you didn’t seem to mind, I guess you were feeling a little self-conscious about your appearance too. It was about six hours before you reopened with all your wiz bang renovations, and you had lots of dust and paint and bins on and around you. You looked worried, but you needn’t have, you were beautiful, even then.
The past couple of weeks have been very special to me, every night you pick me up and dust off the loneliness that catches in my beard during the day. Your beer is always very cold, and who ever happens to be standing behind the bar smiles when they see me stump up the steps. I smile too, and my air balloon heart fills with fossil fuel and lifts, while the tiny couple in the basket spit over the edge and open a bottle of bubbles.
I have a handful of shows left, then I’m left leaving you here, far too far from me. I’ll miss you when I’m gone, and think about you often. I’ll tell my friends all about you and the times we shared. They’ll tell me to shut up and talk about something else, and I will, but secretly I’ll still be thinking of you.
I love you, The Basement,