I Don'T Like Ikea

by Bob Moore ©2018 I don’t like Ikea, the place is like a maze if my wife was not with me, I’d be lost in there for days following the arrows, as you go from place to place people must have hours to spare, as they stroll at a funeral pace. they all walk at 3 abreast, leave no room for getting past then you see a little gap, and you squeeze through at last and there’s that bloody arrow, stretching on around the bend from the front door to the backdoor, feels like it will never end just want to buy a little thing, but once you’re on that track there is nowhere to pay for it, the checkouts at the back the arrows on the pathway, so in circles you must go and try to pass the women, as they stroll along so slow. Through lounge rooms, bedrooms, kitchens, and all rooms in between people try out beds and chairs, see sights you’ve never seen flat packs fill up shelves and shelves, of things which you can build a wonderland for the handyman, whose dreams are now fulfilled You just need your screwdriver, flat and Phillips head, a hammer and a pencil, all instructions can be read you’ll soon get the hang of it, all the pieces together go three or four “Billy” bookshelves, and you will be a pro. And now the end has come in sight, or is it a mirage I can see the checkout, but flat pack shelves are looming large we will just look in aisle ten, she says without a smile there may be things, that I can use, it will only take a while Now we’re in the carpark, at last I’m feeling free but I’m looking at the ground. I’m lost, cause I can’t see the arrows I am looking for, to find which way to go. but I’ll be ok as soon as I, can find my car I know. Time for us to go to Lindt, the chocolate shop across the way and she will buy some chocolate, so I’ll come another day That’s not the only reason, I know she likes them too and she needs me there to lift those packs, it’s the least that I can do.