It has proven its point.
The barrier between you and I.
While the ceramic tile presses
against my feet.  In a distance,
there the plastic siding hugs
the brick foundation. As shrubbery
is not yet green nor my pockets.
Inside, the heat sweats the yellow
stained-sheet rock. Into the pit
of my stomach, causing a burning
sensation. This is a four by four.
As my legs walk around in a circle.
I think... Where found,  wood chippings
and bread crumbs that hover over
a Persian rug. The pattern of sunflowers.
Like the ones on out-dated place mats.
And I sat, rubbing away the goo from
underneath each one. While the air
thickened, regal like a stiff neck. I wait
for a sign to say when. Most of the cheap
clothing has been packed. They are ready
to move. They are dancing. Across the floor
of sunflower dreams.