I see flashes of sapphire
Perched upon ivory hands
Of people poisoned only slightly with merlot.
I see forced laughter; it masks slightly wrinkled faces
And tumbles across the proud oak tabletop.

I see Spanish tile in grand bathrooms
A satin dress hugs the tub
Thrown carelessly there
It smells like cigarettes and French bread.
I see a wallet
Cracked leather, spilling bills
Next to the broken necks of delicate wine bottles.

I see women complaining that they are no longer twenty
And admiring the yellow bird trapped in wire.
I see the men’s eyes sleepily skipping to follow their figures
Squinting because there is only candlelight to help tired eyes.

I see a long neglected stuffed elephant, it stares hopefully at the ground and
The polyester is patchy from too many hugs.
I see a full fridge
A coffee stained finger-painting from 1990, To mom, Love Billy
With tired sheets of paperwork lounging atop it
All underneath a beaded vase gently cradling red roses.

I see books of some lost soul on the highest shelf in the living room
On everything from cheese to children
Lined up neatly like teeth, dusty,
Untouched.
I see people of crystal,
Of rich oil paintings depicting distant places
Hoping to buy back what was lost
When they gained that gold membership to Forbes;
They drink wine until then.