I AM A HOUSE





I am a house without any windows.
In French I am called la maison secrete.
I have one door, which creaks when the wind blows.
Incomprehensibly I am to let -
To someone who won't try to understand
My windowless and misbegotten walls.
Perhaps you are the person whom I planned
To occupy my dark forgotten halls.
You look at me and know you look upon
An architectural phenomenon
Such as your addlepated human brain
Would fuse itself in trying to explain.
You really ought to see that you are not
Unlike the perfect victim of my plot.


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