A Suburban
Welcome
by James Keane
Enter my house,
but leave behind
your persistent whine, your unending
lament for the mortgage money you pay
in rent. Enter my house, but no comments
on the what’s-it that remains
unaligned
with the which’s-it, unattended
by gadget or widget since
your last visit. Keep your gut
and your running mouth shut. If
the chairs on the chipped deck resemble
tattered stairs to nowhere, so be it.
That’s not the way I see them (while
you’re here). Should you smell
something
strange (perhaps under the sofa?), stuff
that revelation until you’re well
out of range. Stay out of the basement,
and
away from my spouse. I might do the same
when I enter your house. |
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