The rug in the room looks like Portugal
Coastal curves
trace fractals
across the map
Waves break
on great gray tufts
of sea and rock
An airplane-high chair
rolls across a landscape
of laptop-bag mesas
power-cord aqueducts
and table-leg towers
that jut from the earth
The firmament’s full
of HVAC auroras
and dangling microphone satellites
orbiting speaker planets
with LED stars
while drop-ceiling cloud banks
blot out the dark reaches
of puffy fireproofed beams
Beyond the glass horizon
shadowy giants
traverse the heavens
Great mysterious gods
on mysterious errands
meeting and parting
without a whisper
while a rumbling hum—
an ocean
a highway
a purring tiger
—comes from everywhere
and nowhere
at once
Sea swirls gently across the rug
It’s nearly enough
to rock the whole meeting
to sleep
