an abecedarius for you

Aside from the considerable
bargain she got, this was just another
crummy urban apartment,
deteriorating wood-panel walls,
exhausted furniture positioned to hide
foul carpet stains that are far too
gruesome to even think about identifying.
Heaps of used fly paper crumpled
in the corner of the living room and
just for the sake of knowing, she
kicked it away and sure enough, there
lay a successfully executed rat trap.

Maybe it wasn’t how she had imagined
New York to be, but it was quite
obvious to her that this was home now.
Perhaps it wasn't the most glamorous, but
Queens isn’t too bad, she thought, and
really it would only be a few gigs before
she could afford a classier pad.
Throwing her bags on seemingly the only
unsullied spot on the couch, she
voraciously set to redecorating, covering her
walls with posters and photographs and
Xeroxed copies of album covers,
yearning for her chance to be great just like
Zevon, or Zeppelin, or ZZ Top.