Train of spoons poem

[The first line is from My Sentence by Dana Levin.]

train of spoons,
a voyage across the carpet–
this life is imaginary
and all too real.
where do they come up with this stuff?
a pillow becomes a doghouse,
and then it’s a pair of hair clippers.
they don’t stay like this forever.
in fact they don’t stay at all.
a few weeks, a few months–
they come, and then they leave.
we start over:
the crying, the readjusting.
sometimes I think it’s too much.
I wish that train 
would take me far away 
and never return.
but then the moment comes 
when she lays her head 
on my leg, and I think,
this carpet isn’t so bad.

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