Silk shades, that’s what
I’ll buy. They’ll cover
my windows, my home’ll look like a goddamned
cupcake.
Chicago—the closest
I come to house wares with innovative
Scandinavian design
at a reasonable price,
the thump and flow
of capital falling just short of my demand…
in my soul I desire a basket lined with white linen, to trundle
under the bed
or under the Victorian divan I got at that little farmhouse
with a red, white and
blue sign
out front, ANTIQUES
in big black letters and a reddish hound mutt on a chain.
If I can’t find a tea cup with pink roses around the rim to match
the set my maternal grandmother’s
ghost showed me in a dream I’ll jump
off a mile high bridge
on Tuesday,
May, 21st.
I’ll leap to my death at nine,
by ten I’ll be hungry, so I’ll walk
to the deli on the corner for a ham sandwich on rye—
onions on the side. Later on
I’ll go out to a movie, maybe get a beer.
