Pelican Jar Condo
He lives in a pelican jar condo
with one hand brushing the waves
painting formaldehyde dirges
top hatted turtles bid him good day.
Sharp notes from a victrola downstairs
where shirts are all freshly pressed
the girl next door dances the rhumba
feet flying dangerously close to the cliffs.
He thinks of brewing some melons,
head resting against brittle walls,
and inviting her over by for dinner
his heart in a matryoshka doll.