I recline all the way back on my levered
Lounger to do what I do best: count stipples
In the stucco overhead. When I enumerate
Those raised dots thronging toward infinity,
I feel empowered on my leatherette seat of
Sovereignty. Turn off your TV, slam shut
That book, throw away that sugary treat, and
Lean back. Try to clear your cluttered mind of
All your daily woes and cares. Take a census
Of all the Lilliputian denizens of the stucco on
Your ceiling. Free your soul of all the dark angst
That blights your spirit like a stopper in a drain.
