If you called me 'two-dimensional', I guess <br />I'd go away and think about it - is he <br />insulting me and if so, how? <br /> <br />Though in a sense, all of us here in cyberspace <br />are two dimensional, to each other? <br /> <br />There's one time, though, when two dimensions <br />would be a blessing: like today, <br />when the cutely photographed brochure <br />for IKEA, the flat-pack furniture giant, <br />thudded through the letterbox <br />with its cosy nordic world as fresh and clean and scented <br />as a newly-built sauna just fired up; <br /> <br />then the two-dimensional me <br />could simply slip like a well-trained bookmark <br />between page 24 - 'a welcoming family room' <br />and page 25 - 'a bathroom to relax in' <br />with a pine-scented sigh of relief <br />that I wouldn't have to drive ten miles, <br />queue out of sight of the parking-lot just to get in, <br />then after checking what was out of stock, <br />go home and try to put the bloody thing together <br />despite the missing bolt. <br /> <br />You'll find me there on page 25, <br />under the artfully arranged bubbles, relaxing <br />in my carefree, blond and nordic way, <br />smiling the smug smile <br />of the sterile two-dimensional.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-dimensional-dream/
