Thus and Such

You happen to turn your head
Slightly toward a near wall,
And your brain lights up with it,

The thisness and just-suchness
Of banal paint and plaster—
Not only the small details,

A few incidental bumps,
But the sheer presence of it,
Material in itself

Standing mutely, no other
Than matter-of-fact matter
With no expiration date,

Other than minimal change,
Until it gets torn down or
Until it disintegrates.

Here is all this stuff of wall,
Just being the thus-and-such
Of some bland interior

In some ticky-tack housing,
Monumentally present
As any part of the world.