Model Home Provisional

Yes, your rooms are clean; pristine -
but think of all the use they'd have
if you'd live and love, above
the empty carcass of your home.

----- The lofts were caskets made of dust,
----- but they looked so good in spite of us.
----- And just you think, had we settled,
----- the carpet whites may blemish brown.

Be that as it may, were they
worth the price of eggshell taps?
Haven't you come calling forth
and sat upon the couch and wept?

----- Not within your many realms
----- of understanding, sure, but please,
----- obscure your fraying niceties
----- and look at all the lovely, frozen.

----- I fear your squalor's bit your brain
----- and settled into thoughts inflamed
----- by the very way you live, or breathe;
----- but please do not divine by me.

Expenses spared at age's turn,
Formica on all your logs to burn;
the poisoned fumes make air seem thin
but settle in decor and shimmer.

Each chair has seen no ass at all,
tables set for guests beholden:
no friends arrive to feast with fellow,
for all your manners pinch so shallow.

But I suppose it's not my place
to judge you or your statue's merit.
Everything so quiet, clean, and
bent beyond all aging quarter.

----- See to it we've come no clutter.

I'll see to it your home stays bright.

----- The brightest thing you'd see all night?

The brightest thing you'd see, all right.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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