the plaid chair

Down the chimney I stare,
There’s his brown orange plaid chair!

worn out at the arms,
snored away all its charm.

I tread on a pin
daring to awaken him
from a liquid clear sleep,
don’t utter a peep!
He might land in that fuzzy place,
on another planet
far away, god damnit.

He’ll yell, if I’m lucky. A huge show and tell.

If I’m lucky
he’ll yell.

– 1996

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