INTERIOR, living room. 
(The ‘Dawn Chorus’ sings.
A mom-bun stands before the screen door.)

One must rest on top of curiosity-

What would it be like to live behind department store windows, dressed for some seasonal beckoning, the design washing our complexions with technicolor wishlists?
Consider the wildness for a moment. How many of your friends and my neighbors might visit daily, popcorn in hand, waiting for the next showing of our daily complexities? Ready to laugh when the boiling plot overflows. Shaking a raised fist at moral inconsistencies or differing absolutism in our display.

-What a party, yes?-

Dear architect, I require large planters filled with artificial ferns and climbing sunflowers to cover the unfinished rawness of my vulnerability…or, one giant Americana wreath with an old blue Chevy in the center.

-What hootenanny potential, yes? –

Sometimes I want to find a pile of yesterday mornings and try on each memory quickly, as if I’m almost late for work. I also want to lie leisurely among the laughter I remember but no longer hear. If I am being honest with you, I want to be tickled by humor’s roaming vines while the morning sun bakes me clean.