I Don'T Like Ikea
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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.
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