The stairs look longer from the step
she doesn’t find gravity to be rosey.
As the waves of the future prep
to be rolled against the falling tea cozy.
Her grandmother waits at the floor
to be woken for from her sleep of pozy
a posse full of bobbie’s at the door.
The flat bricks outside of them
representing britanic bore.
They ask her for another schlepp,
but she’s already tasted floor.