I know I’m being followed
so I scoot into Hom furniture
and pantomime a little showtune
past a couple who are mid-argument
near the sofas and theatre seating
to dispel any cringe
the 5-inch scar swathed across my head
is itchier than a mug and reminds me
to check in with my attorney
when a sales consultant named Phil
approaches in a maroon polo that screams
muscles are my passion
he jokingly asks me to duel
I accept
choose your weapon, he says
without hesitation I grab the lamp
to my left that a feng shui practitioner
would have destroyed on sight
a tall skinny thing, brushed nickel
and much better suited for a loft or alcove
or someplace near a desktop computer
rather than a showroom featuring
every configuration of a particular
kind of bunk bed
impressed by my natural sense of
where furniture should be
Phil then offers me a job I immediately
accept, my own little F.U
to the lawyer who claimed I was
intentionally unemployed, just waiting
for a settlement, which is all to say
private investigators, insurance company
adjusters and everything that’s ever hurt
me is evil