gnome home

there
there he is
not a hair
under his cap
(plastic, red, rubber-dub-dub)
moving
still
unmoving hub
of universe
time elapses
he
unmoved
held by will
through passing hours
disregarded stares
still remaining
remaining until
the stars
awaiting
descent of night
when we
ceasing to watch
he might
may
move

drunken