I think of this house

as the Titanic

at times,

too many rooms,

too many chairs and things

and people

and music eternally playing.

There's no mad dash here

for the life boats.

No one else seems to feel

the impending doom,

the sinking to the bottom of the sea.

The collision has already happened

and we are on a course,

headed for disaster.

What remains is how much or how little

we can salvage.

What really matters is so fleeting, forgotten.

I empathize with the captain's sense of duty

and honor to go down with the ship,

except I am not the captain

nor even the head baker who survived;

I'm just a cook.

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