Some days I put the people in their places at the table
Bend their legs at the knees
If they come with that feature
And fix them into the tiny wooden chairs

All afternoon they face one another
The man in the brown suit
The woman in the blue dress
Perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved

But other days, I am the one
Who is lifted up by the ribs
Then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse
To sit with the others at the long table

Very funny
But how would you like it
If you never knew from one day to the next
If you were going to spend it

Striding around like a vivid god
Your shoulders in the clouds
Or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper
Staring straight ahead with your little plastic face?