The sofa stands no chance. Our home's a lab
for cultivating age: within a week
or two, new threads will fray to drab,
the TV cloud with dust, oiled hinges creak,
fresh carpet fill with craters, windows streak.
The children seem infected by the quirk
as well: they've grown new sets of teeth, can work
a microwave, can hold a lucid chat.
To shift location wouldn't help: the smirk-
ing mirror offers ample proof of that

 
NaPoWriMo 2005, April 20