A Viewer

Festive and feral,

I nuzzle a daisy.

 

The sun is dizzy in the revolving door.

 

The penguin in the lobby

points at me petulantly,

but I am not accepting discipline today.

 

In this gun scented,

Wednesday wearing

terrarium,

stones lurch,

lungs pulsate,

lizards lounge on the verdant moss.

 

What am I waiting for?

What I have always longed for –

a viewer.