by an antique shop
on the square
square spaces for individual
junk
food makes a human
tired
so i dare to sit on the white
leather rocking chair
across from the view
headlong of a
family
of chairs
half unconscious waves of
pity-stenched music takes
the Summer heat away
and falls the snow
like blue
tunes Elvis hummed
is it 1972?
I question
inherit the past of a sad other
staring down the golden velvet
arm chairs
what fashion is this?
bloody stool
shit
inflamed in a room of sick pink
no not really there
maybe it is only the
lampshades
and I know I am a woman
but I feel like a gutted pig
lying in a bed of cigarettes
to burn a hole through the air
light a gun
light a match
the baseball teams are on
but I loathe sports
and the booth has no television
my mind wanders back
to the shades
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