Norwegian Wood & Swedish Furntiture

my dad passed –

and by that I only mean that he died –

and afterwards

the speakers in his condo

reverberated

when I awoke I was alone

this bird had flown

and I hadn’t thought he had liked

The Beatles

or the Florida palmetto bugs

in that case

nor cases of beer

at fourteen years sober

token in hand to prove it

I left my change with the barman

a few days later

to cope by way of a Tinder date &

five Blue Moons

& a bare-footed guitarist sang

Isn’t it nice – Norwegian Wood?

and I cried

at the moment of

transcendental comfort

a few months later

I picked up an IKEA dresser

my neighbors had thrown out

And I thought

Isn’t it nice?

to have bearings again

and blessings from

a wafted songbird