With Hairy Vigor
September 15, 2011 § 2 Comments
Someone else has noticed that their furniture is moving:
“I slumped into a sofa on the road.
It stood and walked with hairy vigor,
Weathered legs drumming upon stone.
A table hobbled with floundering steps,
Squeezed between benches and stools.”
“An impossibility! Your stupidity scares us,” they criticized.
Stung by the friendly insults,
He clasped a sack of odd bow ties,
An injured look on his face.
“Cynics! I am not cowed!
A table on a path is no rumor.
A caravan of chairs maneuvering
Trampled my carnations.
Storm windows, pale green,
Traveled shoulder to shoulder,
Breaking through the garden hedge.
Is no one curious?
While it lasts,
This impressive progression hungers to be charted.”