The Room

It looks like a yellow box with a

white top and a green base. You read the

signs, you witness Ewing slamming,

Thurman crying and Simms passing.

On one wall you smell potpourri,

sensing the presence of a girl. The

balloons of past birthdays; the radio

blasting annoying neighbors next door.

You touch over 200 stuffed

toys nows locked in the closet, and cut

yourself n the edge of the life-size

house in the corner or bump into Tony

the Tiger hanging from the ceiling.

You eat spaghetti on the edge of

the bed hoping I don't tell you to

sit at the table.  Then you relax in

your space, your place, your private place

The Room..

11/14/10 amorlesslis