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Congratulations, Mister Biden and Ms. Harris

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Dear Diary,

I’m sore today because

The bed frame broke last night

And, yes, I was in it

Though the soreness comes

From having to remove

It from the mattress,

Then try to fold it, then

Put the remnants by the door,

Hoping there will not be a fire

To cap off the drama

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It was like the done-up

Broken bedroom scene in

The Quiet Man and other

Comedies

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Several parts fell on the

Floor all by themselves, and

I should say half-parts, meaning

I guess that the disposable

Economy has won again

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And I am resting on the

Mattress on the floor,

Having a hobbit’s perspective

Of the world;

I have to reach for things such

As a lamp switch or a book

Or my pills

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I’ll have to drag the broken

Black metal to the trash

And then, I don’t know,

Look, shop around

For something new

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I’ll have to let my muscles

Smooth out some

While hoping for

The unfraying of frayed nerves

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At least,

I don’t have to worry about

Who’s President;

I guess that’s it—thanks,

Diary, for listening

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coda

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I’m now closer to the

Perspective of

The dust bunnies—maybe

They’ll invite me to a party

Just outside

Their secret warren

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C L Couch

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Photo by noslifactory on Unsplash

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