Store-bought thoughts haunt me.
My stick-figured skeleton suspends up the stairs.
I zig-zag through retired toys.
The day was counted in bird chirp battles,
and the creaky floorboards play along.
Every nook and cranny noise see-saws in my ears.
The mind wanders like dust-specs in the afternoon sun.
If only the birds would speak in words.
I die in the house.
Nude Descending a Staircase -- Gjon Mili