O sock drawers of paunchy, square-fingered mowers, monochromatic sedan drivers!
May you be spiked forever with rogue golf tees, the ubiquitous Playboy
secreted always in your depths.
O cut-glass decanters of the wet bar! O filament light sculpture!
O deep blue, wall-to-wall misery smooth as the skin of the inner thigh—
let no decorator revise you.
O fainting couch, green glow of banker's lamp, O Reader's
Digest Condensed Books tawdry in your gilt spines! O intendance of oak
paneling, of chenille swag and fleur-de-lis!
O furbished stereo console! O high fidelity! O Whipped
Cream and Other Delights! O Jump Up Calypso! O On The Street
Where You Live! O My
Fair Lady still jacketed and unmolested! Endure beneath the sunburst
clock and the swirled plaster of the ceiling spangled
with flecks of light!
O aquamarine coin of wading pool! O corrugated carport overhang!
May you share eternally those trellises of summer afternoons
drowsy with pink blooms.
And O split-level entryway, wrought-iron balustrade—glazed bonecage of the landing!
O soft, skylit corridors and childhoods murdered in each room
Remain unchanged as the dioramas forgotten in library storerooms, pristine,
delicate as embryos, dazzling as miniature scenes jewelled
into enamel eggs.