So yeah, we're all stuck.

So yeah, we're all stuck.

Room in New York by Edward Hopper (1932)

Flitting about

by Bob Hicok

Candles play with shadows
as if they're kittens.

Gramatically 
this could be confusing.

Anagramatically 
this could be a mess.

There are only two anagrams
of my name: obb and bbo.

Sometimes I look out the window 
and see the window 
looking in at me, 
searching for a way out 
of trying to find a way in. 

So yeah, we're all stuck.

Together. 

But not stuck together.

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