Nervously shifting position—right knee atop left thigh, both feet pressed to the hardwoods ever lineated alibi, left sole in clear view to anyone entering from stage right
Towering clouds of charcoal tinted doubt strain in search of breathable space, dusting the passing terrain with an acceptable case for the brutality of an asthmatic too earnestly dismissed as having been too eagerly indulgent upon those panting displays of breath
Tangerine florets linger the walls above
Heavy feet scamper in now apparent direction
Leaving scuffmarks those below can feel, no matter
The sensitivity of that particularly unwashed face
Amass and hoard, we consume sparingly
Yet hold onto every shred, when it would have been too easily
Permissive to share, even an ounce of overage—One would have to wonder, if such generosity could exist, and if so, than what undiscovered aspects of the home might show.
If then, how?