one day she was bored, bored, bored
with work, life, everything
so she went down in the basement
wrapped a rope around a beam and hung herself
nobody important really
just a somewhat neurotic woman with mousy brown hair cut in a bob
but no more neurotic than most I suppose
lived behind a daring red door that was the opposite of herself really
that door screamed for attention
she lived in the shadows
a two story flat crammed with knick knacks
a piano she proudly bought to learn how to play
but never got much beyond chopsticks
a liberty bell—london phone booth—eiffel tower—empire state building
all in miniature of course
none of which she’d actually been to
bought at assorted yard sales garage sales junk shops the occasional auction
she got up went to work religiously
sang in the church choir
the reverend said she could always be counted on
but that wasn’t enough
she longed to be a professional artist
she was quite good at caricatures- everyone said so
but one day there she was- a caricature herself
in a sterile marble corporate coffin
a faceless replaceable cog in a corporate machine
a machine that grinds people up like ground beef for today's spaghetti
it paid the bills but not the thrills
there wasn’t anyone special
for dinners, a night at the theater, for cuddling with on a rainy sunday morning
for asking what is a 10 letter word for scrutiny for 5 down
no one to share dreams and secrets with
remembrances and disappointments
loneliness seeps through the cracks in the foundation
the building caves in upon itself
