the desk

a big, heavy desk has landed in my room.  an emu.  or perhaps something a little less clunky and a touch more regal.  an eagle.  or perhaps something less Americana and coined.  an albatross.  perhaps something with a little less sea.  a pterodactyl.  perhaps it wasn't so much flying when it landed, maybe it just landed.  a meteorite.  perhaps a little smaller.  a commercial airliner.  again too much America and too much smoke and mirrors.  maybe i'll just call it what it is and not try to turn into something else.  a dignified and decent desk has landed in my room.  i think i love it though i don't even know it yet.  could it be possible? 

(my body hungers for winter, for the cuddle sap of snow and the glow of light when the world outside is white and frosted and still.  i have a need for the cycle.  the need for the cycle). 

a big, heavy desk has handed in my room and it stands upright as a soldier, it came from the navy.  perhaps life changing decisions where transcribed on it's face, and life saving or breaking deals were passed across it. could it be possible?