I was unpacking my bags
It had been a trip underneath a refridgerator
Under an oven with less than a centimeter
between the floor and it's bottom
That's where I spent my vacation
atleast it was warm even if it was narrow
I didn't quite fit in and ended up feeling squashed
I got back and took my bags upstairs
I unpacked my big suitcase
On the second story of my box I mean my dream
No, I mean my house this big old long house
I was a box within a box within a box
everything inside was mine so tightly packed
without a voice but still screaming to get out
to untidy the floor with an odd mix of clean and dirty
was that really me clean and dirty? really?
had I done a good job job of hiding it?
Probably not, a few teenage cockroaches snobbed me
from those few days I spent under the oven
jeering at my tight clothes and suitcase
But they were free to forage high class crumbs
To mock me and the queues of ants right next to me
oh what a relief to be back home again as a rustic human
wobbly in ambition, competence and the ability to unpack
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