Time Abandoned Its Luggage at the Border

The carpet started whispering tax advice
to the chandelier,
and the chandelier nodded
because it finally felt understood.

My left shoe filed for emancipation
claiming it deserved
a life beyond sidewalks
and the tyranny of gravity.

A flock of clocks migrated south
for the winter,
leaving time behind
like a forgotten suitcase
full of unpaid emotions.

I tried to open the refrigerator
but it screamed
that it was tired of being
the family therapist
for spoiled leftovers.

So I sat on the floor
and negotiated a peace treaty
with my own reflection,
who insisted it was the original
and I was the counterfeit.