The Sofa

The Sofa

The plaid pattern stung my eyes

it awaited its removal

tucked in a bare corner over all these years

There was no need to barter

I had all the silver and gold at my disposal

for it was written: this sofa had to be mine.

No paws but my own could touch her during the move

and as I heaved it through the threshold of the former besitzer

she coughed out her mattress,

like a forthcoming whale's tongue

It, in all its splendor,

was out of her box and jammed, unmoving,

I struggled with sweat dropping on the tiles despite the freezing weather

My bones were challenged and my recently torn hamstring

twanged like the loose chords of a harp

Not to be overcome I cursed the Gods, my mother Athena,

then ripped off my belt,

strapping it and wrapping it along its Main Spring

It worked: the convertible ceased to convert itself into a bed and

went back to being a sofa.

Dear reader, if you bemoan as I the treachery of having to move

this heavy settee by myself -read no further!

I trembled to think how, with one good leg, I would heave my

object of desire

to port

I was ready to abdicate my throne if She

wouldn't make it to my checkered palace.

So I hoisted before Lucifer's eyes this couch

until my fingers were burning and I lay cursing

the fallen angels, the burning tombs in Dante's Inferno

now I breathed

Again with hamstring twanging

I summoned my thoughts

not a King, not a squire in this land

e-portaled , web-connected or not

would send a vassal to deliver a couch in such conditions

Yet some movers are unlike mortals

frenzied, eyes riveted now over my

belt that held the holy spring

I shoved and moaned in the cold darkness

biting down on molars and

ignoring what not resources gone

Should I fall still on the street just one yard

from my chariot

let it be known that Love for colors and contrast

are One with Life

Nevertheless I insisted

howling and moaning

shaking the double-paned windows of nearby houses

waking damsels who blew out the candles on their ipads in fright

I hoisted this Thing into my chariot (of Swedish make)

Stuffing her with no respite

ignoring space

making my own physical laws

to get her in

I did

And when I did

the mermaids sang out from distant oceans

Now, convertible in tow, I exceeded limits set for speed

but the authorities let me pass

seeing my knees crunched into my neck

my Manlihood pressed into my throat

(I may or may not ever again sire children)

The angels opened the gates liberating me from Hell

The Sofa, in all her splendor,

took her place

and for me to rest on her.