He'd been there for a month and a half
Wanted the place to be his own entirely
Mirror in hand he reached behind the toilet on an impulse
Fastened there on the porcelain (in a crooked space only compound eyes could see) was a sticker of a flexed arm
He'd been there for a month and a half
Even after he peeled if off he felt like a guest in his own house
Like nothing was really his
Someone else was choosing this
An iced tea and a magazine
It's a beautiful day