Friday, December 16, 2005

Was it friction or frottage? You look Velveteen.
Like that storied Rabbit, you're worn to a sheen.
But you're rather TOO real, and you're (shiver) unclean.

Can a mind comprehend all the germs, crumbs, and menaces
Covertly ensconced in your folds, nooks, and crevices?
And do they send unpleasant olfactory messages?

O Sofa! You poor whore, age one hundred-three.
Those who wreaked havoc on you still roam free,
Yet you endure, stolid, with puce dignity.



Blogger Urbaniak said...

Colleen, believe it or not ever since I read that I find myself reciting it now and then. You have written a classic.

6:52 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is a lovely, memorable ode. I really enjoyed it.

6:46 AM  

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