It looks out the window,
yawning very strangely.
Hitler and Himmler
and other H's drift
past and yet the wind
also blows by,
yipping and yapping
and removing
the finish from the
furniture. O, it's so bare!
My seats, empty of
their patina! Shit!
Love, I want
you to sit with me
awhile, not unlike
the egg a baby chick
kicks at!
