By Eric Meub
[Originally published on January 9, 2016]
I trailed through cavern after cavern hung
with clouds of crystal from a painted sky,
and gawked at fountains on the lawn, a young
suburban girl bewildered by Versailles.
I saw my parents didn’t live this way;
and now my husband’s taste – not regal, we’ve
discerned. And yet that morning of parquet
still whispers glamor, and I still believe.
Until this afternoon. I don’t know why.
Perhaps because we had another fight,
or maybe I expected more from my
IKEA kitchen. Nothing’s ever right.
I’m acting childish, but can’t seem to stop…
This is a lovely granite countertop.
[Originally published on January 9, 2016]
I trailed through cavern after cavern hung
with clouds of crystal from a painted sky,
and gawked at fountains on the lawn, a young
suburban girl bewildered by Versailles.
I saw my parents didn’t live this way;
and now my husband’s taste – not regal, we’ve
discerned. And yet that morning of parquet
still whispers glamor, and I still believe.
Until this afternoon. I don’t know why.
Perhaps because we had another fight,
or maybe I expected more from my
IKEA kitchen. Nothing’s ever right.
I’m acting childish, but can’t seem to stop…
This is a lovely granite countertop.
Copyright © 2017 by Eric Meub Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line. |
No comments:
Post a Comment