Six Rooms

The first is my window blinds.
Slats with pull cords
Between light and dark.

The second is my carpet.
A magic carpet of wine tracks
Notated by cannabis tacks.

The third is the cigarette tin
In which I keep my addiction
To loose change and nicotine.

Fourth, a few fossils
I found on a beach
In primeval childhood.

Next to last my old pool cue.
I play impossible shots
On imaginary tables.

Finally, a faded photograph
In inexpensive frame
Of someone loved and lost.

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