The Furniture Shop

I walked slowly into the furniture shop, “Hey, I know this place”.
My head reeled back, my nostrils faired, I smell pancakes.

“This place once was a Bob’s Big Boy”, I can see it. Over there, in that corner once sat a booth where my family planned our trip to Disney World back in 1975.
Over there, was the salad bar, where I first cried over the unrequited love of a red headed ballerina.

An overweight salesperson, stinking of Brut 33 and teaming bacteria, snapped me back to the present.
“Look you rat bastard, I don’t want to buy a bed. I want a piece of the chocolate fudge brownie cake and a coffee!”


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Filed under outlaw poetry, poetry

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