A wrinkled stars-n-bars tacked
to the wall, a pearloid patterned
waiting-room chair,
a La-Z-Boy designed for two,
A recycled corporate desk,
above it, Sean Connery as Bond,
framed with a Walther PPK,
an NRA calendar left on last month,
every award earned or received,
one two three four
and four more diplomas of
welding and history,
my Marshall stack and foreign piano,
his thriftstore guitar made of resin
like this room.
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