Rake me or decorate me, I am meant to be calming and like totally Zen.
PETER sticks his fingers in me, though I don’t know where they’ve been.


I normally put a pep in your morning, but now I only collect the dust.
Take a BREAK, look high in the ROOM, hopefully my pipe won’t rust.


Been around for all the stories told, now in a BAY corner just growing old.
Even when it’s hot, I’m cold. With me, you can eat yo meat even if it’s old.


Smooth surface, TRAINING wheels, the color of whipped cream.
I can be cluttered with thoughts and even some dreams.
On my walls plans are made and ideas exchanged.
Then they’re wiped away so I am ready for another day.


A cold, chrome box that is tucked into a cozy tight little corner.
An unlocked door that shouldn’t open for just any him or her.
Inside is brought to life only when it’s loaded with bubbly things.
A short reach for the head of the table with just a quick chair swing.


Singles, doubles, triples, stand back and let’em fly.
Don’t hit the tall ceiling or poke yourself in the eye.
Count the numbers, often needing three hundred or so.
And be careful, it’ll hurt if you drop’em on your toe.


I am abandoned and getting so old.
Moons ago, I should have been sold.
All I want is to be out and free.
To be able to travel the deep sea.

I wear fishnets but have no legs, yet you’ll love the way I look.
When you see me 14 high on my pallet, I know you’ll be hooked.

I’ve been many things over the years, from a junk room to rest spot. Now I’m empty space, but have the potential to be alot.

Wires, cables, technical boxes, and blinking lights.
Powering our drives, typically in a dark like night.