memories of a chair

when the world got old and worn out
when the anorexic sun ate its own shadow
it suddenly occurred to me
that dishwashing liquid still comes in my favorite flavor
and there's plenty of rotten chicken in the sink
then the wheels of my rusty brain turned with a squeak
and a chair flew into the kitchen through the window
we were still sitting around the table
drinking some poisonous green stuff
blowing vomit through holes in our heads
at a thought of all the changes
that had accumulated outside
without our permission.