That Old Chair

our soft spot’s a roughed up,
patchwork lounger slumped
over in shaded corner,

permanent, our throne in
a freshly fumigated
home,

some sneaky king and bipolar
queen have ever since
been rope tied to
each other

strainin’ similar smiles while our
zippered bellies stretch out on
our fake leathers

but it’s true, i do- n’ i hear
that shit sometimes
means forever.

image:https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Old-Chair/1114355/4496534/view

image: https://www.istockphoto.com/ca/photos/white-trash?mediatype=photography&phrase=white%20trash&sort=best

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