This coffee table is exactly what i needed
to vacate my mind of items not this coffee table.
Henceforth, I will consider only what to rest
upon it, what to stow beneath it, how to extricate
the Roomba from the prison of its undercarriage.

The possibilities are endless. The possibilities —
ok — are not endless. I may someday grow bored
with this fake wood, already peeling, with its espresso
finish, different in color, somehow, than my other
espresso furniture. Is there a goddamn governing

body that could please coordinate the shades
and sheen of stain applied to this cheap fucking
particle board? My god. I didn’t need this. I was fine
resting my feet on the pleather ottoman. I was fine
resting coffees on the ugly square I purchased

from Amazon for twenty dollars during the Mesozoic
era of my adulthood — a lie. I was already ancient
watching the arc of the cold comet — happy, in fact,
for the cold comet, feeling for the first and only time
the warm embrace of atmosphere traversed too quickly.