There is
a part of
a teak
armchair,
left out
in the rain;
I sanded it
and buffed it
and waxed it;
this is a good thing
to do, taking
old wood
and making it
pretty;
I stripped some
electrical wire, and
hammered it
into expressions
of my longing;
I listened
to the silent birds
and the radio,
wandering around
wondering;
suddenly
never happened,
but eventually
I found my way
back into
the house.
There was still
the laundry,
and somehow
I had forgotten
to eat dinner.