At the Convention for Self-Love

The speaker tapped the top of the mic three times

to resuscitate the room’s pulse,

then asked how many people keep their blinds closed.

A lady in the audience peered from behind her blinds

through a diamond shaped hole

supported by her crowbar fingers.

She sent her eye forward as the spokesperson

for her particular universe

to explain her formula for maintaining joy:

I don’t want opinions on my interior design,

no one can understand the concept

having never been inside.