The Hidden Lives of Objects

Do not wake up the stapler.

He’s lying on his side.

The fire extinguisher’s face is red.

She’s got nowhere to hide.

The elevator’s mood swings

keep her from standing still.

The mirror has gone blind.

Behind its face are pills.

The faucet waits for hands to wash.

Its sensor is so patient.

The ink within the white board marker

wonders what to write.

With a sly smile, the eraser

lies in wait a few inches away,

ready to wipe out all words

at a moment’s notice with a wave.

Fingers tap-dance on keypads;

screens blink with images

and blizzards of information

while outside, umbrellas bloom

and rain plunges towards the ground,

bearing a message of new life

to the earth’s thirsty old ears.

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