January 10, 2010
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I was lying on my floor today
feeling the rough
on my back and bare shoulders.
You are the celing above me.
You are the vent near my head.
I am an area rug
with eyes.
I am a lump a bump a
girl who won't jump
and it's raining cats and dogs
right outside my window
as this hump this bump
rolls to examine
a scratchy bit of the floor.
It's August, can't you come out to play?
I promise to be good,
promise to be-
We could stay in the shade-
We could not saying anything at all
We could be as silent as
the shade
As the rug, as the celing.

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