Outside the Box I Like to Call My Mind

I sit on a round red cushion
With its polyester filling flattened
And worn.
I stare around the room at
The tan wallpaper which
Is peeling off
And curling at the corners.
Gazing at the dingy brown carpet,
Skimming over the drab, cream-colored
Curtains.
Finally coming to rest on the body
Of a small brown mouse
Long deceased with it's snapped neck
Between the metal and wood of the trap.

I glance out the window
And see a bright blue sun
Making my red front lawn look
Almost lavender...
There's a fuschia cat
Stalking an orange bird
Atop my rotting
Neon green fence
And I think to myself
How odd it would be
If that cat were brown.