Things I Think About While I Wait for the Lights to Change
The car showroom has gone and in its place is a Furniture Village with a sign that reads: SOFAS DINING BEDS and I find myself wondering:
If sofas enjoy dining beds and whether that invitation to dine is merely a friendly gesture or a prelude to sex and if it’s the second how exactly do sofas fuck beds, who’s on top and if beds mind being screwed over and if it’s less sex and more cultural appropriation; maybe sofas feel they have been crafted in the wrong workshop and are desperate to identify as beds and they take their revenge out on the casual weekend guest and then I am wondering: why it’s a furniture village and if it has a sweet little village green and a pond with ducks and a cricket team, only if it’s a Scottish village it probably has none of those but a stern looking stone kirk, a shop that sells Irn Bru and a park with discarded sofas because no one wanted to pay the council to take them away, and then the light changes to green.