a Real, Ikea Man

 
the art on my Wall

is tilted…

pleasantly motif’ed
 
 
–sometimes profoundly

–sometimes humorously

–always admonishing but

tilted and

the windchime at Window

tossed about by hot air is

Pavlovian bell…

disjointing and drowning

the hum of a

million conversations.

my desktop is cluttered.

piled high with

hoarded junk where

rodents have free rein

negotiating a maze

to cheese-free ends while

the stream just inside

crashes against wall

(the fourth wall)

silently and

unceasingly

–creating incessant babble—

all the same…