I stared, caught in a window.

The staff, the cook,

The cleaning crew: they

Walked around

In a Miyazaki light.

It wasn’t surreal

But it should’ve been.

They moved in a shredded screen.

Disjointed by the blinds,

Their serving trays were

Striped, and their

Arms were striped.

They dressed and walked

In dismembered

Dizzy

Plaid.