For Keely
Refusal hung from the doorman
like an ostentious gold koala,
like a Mickey Mouse alarm clock
on a loop of intestine.
He shook the dour shovel of his head.
'But this is my house,' said Vincent,
glancing through the window
to where his wife and three daughters
were happily playing Wii Sports Resort
in a tinsel-festooned living room.
The boulderman narrowed his tiny, dolphin-like eyes.
His expression was dead.
'Nope,' he said.
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