Friday, November 18, 2005
My Room
computer
hums
vacant
its monitor
blank
stares down
half a twin tower
of cheap shelving
threatening to explode
on a crash diet of Lonely Planet
and recipe books
new poetry journals
squeezed for space
voices small
in the wasteland
a calendar
ticks away the days
without gold stars
for good behaviour
the carpet grooved
from the ceaseless pacing
of wheeled chairs
and lamps that turn on
with no inspiration
tumbled shopping bags
of detritus
a refugee camp
a guitar
listless
in a corner
email me: piokiwi@yahoo.com.au
Piokiwi 2:30 pm
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