Linoleum floors
It's always linoleum
No matter where I go
You think
It's wood
Or tile
But it's linoleum
Always linoleum
I'm sick of it
It's everywhere
Why can't there
Be something different
Why can't we have actual wood
Or tile
Or carpet
Or anything
Except linoleum
I'm sick of it
Sick of how it looks
How it smells
How it feels
Can't this town
Afford to use something
Other than linoleum?
I lay on the floor
Staring at the popcorn ceiling
It's uncomfortable,
The linoleum,
But it'll do
I lay there
On my back
Arms spread wide
As sick of it as I am
It welcomes me
Lets me lie on it
Cry on it
I might hate it
But it brings me some strange comfort
Sometimes I like things staying the same
But I'd never admit it aloud
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
