Clouds drift aloft, like fluffy crabs--
The kind that crawl up in your ass--
Sunbeams through the windows pass
And make shapes on the wall:
My mind a patch of light on the floor,
This patch, from the window by the door, is yours,
And these, down this long hall,
Are everyone else's--doctors' and whores'.

Oh, the velour she wore!
When I rubbed it with my hand,
It turned a different shade,
Then went back just like it was
When rubbed the other way.
Our remarks scurried across the table like rodents,
The bows on her sunglasses,
Striped like a tiger,
Climbed the sides of her hair:
(Am I the only one who noticed?)
Winsome, enthralling, like a sunny day fair,
But the black pen stuck behind her ear--
All business.

While light came through the vertical blinds,
They scurried and scurried on the slippery veneer
With scratchy little claws and pushy little voices,
Offering neither compromise nor choices:
"Cheee, cheee, cheee."
"Cheee, cheee, cheee."
Round and round in well-worn circles,
Agreeing "politely"
To disagree.