This carpet knows its joy
knows its keen eye is coy
to be glad; gladder than we.
These paves smirk at my
rough, baseless skulk
when they hold up all.
The wind is a whistling
demon and I am jealous
to navigate each secret.
These bricks lean inward,
though without foresight;
in a moment they swell to be.
The lights glance and wink
away from me, and I am
a vampire; sucking my fat lip.
Vast Imbecility 