Such a rainy day at IKEA. The rain coats our car in white noise. The escalators purr along ceaselessly under our feet and the carts wait patiently for our hands on their grips. No one else around. Trails of sparks sizzle out behind us, tiny fires from daily friction, matches left burning under the cap of the car to snuff them out. 200 square feet. 987 dollars. What a sweet rug. The rain beats down like a gentle chime. The grey sky rolls on forever over the blue hills outside, an ocean ofAppalachia. Inside it’s just us walking arrow to arrow at a quiet shuffle. Soft musings on bunk beds and didn’t we want them so badly as children. A tease about the bottle cap glasses. That glance, almost feline. The empty store hums beneath our pressed palms. Organic electric when our fingertips touch, an earthy calm. Four-eyes. Yes, we should get that rug. It’s so sweet.
christmas comes early
and i get a gift.
after a week, its shine still glows
in the pocket of my mind.
but like any greedy child,
my desire grows.
and now i want my gift and more,
some cake and eat it, too.
to smile inwardly,
to know all these secret pleasures,
i’m vindicated in the fullest of ways,
and yet still, tediously, not in others.
and all these sweet, personal treats,
i’d drop them in a heartbeat,
perhaps to reverse it all.
no, i won’t. but at least, my fantasies do.