woke up this morning and everything had a grievance: the buildings

had grievances- the plants the concrete - my cat told me how injured

she felt being in the pound - the crosswalk stripes had opinions about

how we should walk over them - the yellow light said it felt invisible -

the lawn screamed at me to stop trimming its hair but if i did it again

it wanted bangs - the toilet seat felt victimized and wanted to start a

union - the couch wanted springs - the stairs felt put upon and wanted

hazard pay and workman’s comp - the tulips wanted a new bed - the spoon

and the knife and the fork demanded to be straws so they could finally

have an inner life - the crow and the sparrow traded stripes and war stories

of cloud storms and sleet - the roof wanted a break - to lie down for a while

like when the bear goes into its cave to escape the sun and other bears -

the sprinkler refused to shoot - the dryer demanded to roll instead of tumble

- and the lamp declined to glow- i rose from bed ready to dance in the rain of

noise and chaos - but the knob on the door wanted to discuss new bindings