Infinite Hiding Spots

this house is trapped in time

What color are your walls?

Dust-covered frames in a

cluster-f**k amongst clocks

and shelves and attic

knickknacks

Christmas elves and stockings

too big for anyone to fill

A yard sale with a ceiling

and infinite hiding spots

for mice and memories

Mirrors make new rooms

but where are the walls?

Crosses and cups on counters

and lamps with burnt bulbs

litter the kitchen

like the fridge filled

edge-to-edge 

with magnetic jokes

and music makers

Candles flicker endlessly

but curtains never catch fire

it's pitch black at noon

or is it midnight?

Misty cliffs interrupt

the incense clouds

box towers filled with

familiar replacements

like move-in day

but you've been here

for years and years

and everything is just the same

like the indoor petting zoo

and the cat-hair covered indent 

I left on your couch cushion.