Interior Decoration

Today, my lawn mower stared

Through the sliding glass doors

Like a small, automated animal.

Birds, too, fly through these doors;

They remind me of wind-up toys.

When I was a kid,

They dressed me in blazers and black socks.

Now, I'm grown up

And I'm fond of sailboats and emphysema.

The lobsters are doing the hula by the docks.

A barge groans. Listen:

The little blue dots on the horizon of your eyes

Remind me of blue spruce,

Or a throw-away razor, the kind

You buy on the run.

Outside, a bird makes a noise like a berserk computer,

And the sun heads for the rotting bulkhead.

I don't like this kind of waiting:

The wildlife is patient, like concrete.

Nothing changes. This room needs flowers.