this mesh black
business chair
is friendship.
the t-shirt i
have halfway
pulled up is
soul. the
breakfast
i had yes-
terday (but
not this morn-
ing) is love.
the mustard-
colored plush
(and i mean
amazingly
soft!) sham
that fits
over my
entire bro-
ken bed
is my
country,
or my
travels
from
country
to country
in an effort
to understand
and be comfort-
ed by diversity
and the oddities,
the disparities
that exist from
culture to culture.
the orange juice,
dr. pepper and
gallon of milk
that i fell asleep
and woke up
(just now) next
to is my family.
the keys to
where i live,
which i finally
found, are the
many paradoxes
of home. that
half-eaten bag
of potato chips
is my body and
the chips inside
are who i am
in relation to
the spiritual
and whether
spirit exists.
there are cans
of vegetables
and soup,
which are the
many people
in my life.
a broken
peanut
butter
cookie
next to
the sink
is hope
and the
two slices
of bread
left in
the blue-
checkered
wrapper
over there
are optimism.
i type this
on a laptop
(values) which
sits on a pillow
(heat) atop my
crossed legs
(lineage).
