Boomerangs

After hyperventilating
at the apocalyptic mess
in girlchild’s room, the floor
laden with crafts half-
done and clothes half-
worn we together
resolved on a plan
for a tidier space.
Our reconnaissance mission
to a store called Boomerangs
for the elusive desk
with drawers.
We purchased a solid oak
grand dame of drawers,
loaded with the help
of brawny workers, so kind.
On our way home, boychild asked
if he could watch YouTubes on
“How to pick a lock,” since
he said that might be
useful in his future.
Back home
Husband paused, no words
reminded me, third floor 
aloft, winding narrow stairwells
this monster 
bedroom imposter
must be returned.

Boomeranging to
Boomerangs I found her
majesty had no match,
elected instead to accept
store credit and a
sequined hooded
sweatshirt from Justice,
the balance of justice here lacking
as it will be if boychild
ever tries to pick a lock
to his sister’s room
which may well remain
apocalyptic until the very end.

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