I lay languid on the bed
And think how thin
The stone and mortar,
Plaster and lathe,
Between the dazzling
Reflected snapshot of
Delusion -
Of Mayonnaise lids
Uncongealed,
Of socks each spooned
Within its mate,
Of fond exchanges,
Satisfied sighs and
Ticked off lists -
And me.
I see
Little bits of wall
Yielding,
Shifting,
Groaning,
Bowing.
I see violent
Hollows
In the dunes.
I stare at five little
Dirty toe prints
On the wall and
Coffee rings on wood,
And lay languid on the bed.
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