It’s mattress time again – the season when
the sidewalks draw the sleeping pads outside.
As if attractive law induces men
to harken to some kind of pavement tide,
they must assist their mattresses to move,
to rest on edge against a parkway tree
or front yard fence, but over days to prove
no mattress lingers stiff or vertically.

It’s mattress time, when students swap their rooms,
and I am skirting furniture today –
side-stepping broken desks, exhausted brooms,
with futons, lamps and box springs in my way.
I’d best not fret. Once I was young myself.
And maybe I can use that corner shelf…

(Today in Berkeley)