Their house is so beautiful:
the walls so perfectly white,
the chairs so extremely blue,
not a dish in the kitchen sink,
not a crumb on the bumpy floor.

Outside on his lumpy lawn,
Lego Dad on his stumpy legs
wears yesterday's smile,
wondering how many times
his hair will be replaced today.

Wedged into the train cab,
the Lego Train Driver
dreams of the Lego house,
the stillness of the lamp
on the living room table.

Lego Mom sits at that table
in the silent brightness,
dreaming of the train --
the terrible wonderfulness
when it roars round and round.

Abandoned in a corner,
Lego Darth Vader waits
to slice the train
into plastic ribbons
and regain his empire.

And I, a veritable giant,
reach down to Darth Vader,
remove his light saber
(just to be safe)
and switch on the train
for Lego Mom.

(First published in the Evansville Review)

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