The exact same spot.

I am a teddy bear staring out
of the bedroom window.
Head bowed, eyes downcast, exuding sorrow.
Perhaps today, something will change.

Peanut butter sandwiches. The ants attack
a red-checkered blanket.
Pattering footsteps. Screams.
"Tickle tickle tickle." Giggles.
A shift in mood.
I remain unmoved.
Tall, wooden, static.

A pile of black and red ties. Ruckus and
a bucket of ice. Squeaking joints.
Flashes. Authority.
The smell of vodka
and vomit.
It overwhelms me.
I do nothing.

Damp eyelashes. An athletic jacket
shared between two.
A hand seeking solace in the depths
of the outer pocket.
Anxiously waiting.
Intrusion. They try to escape.
The clouds express what she cannot.
I absorb it all.
Perhaps they speak for me too.
HIDDEN LINK
You see, it is but what I perceive that changes.
Because I cannot.