The time is late and he arrives home
Kettle ready to boil an old antique model
The knife a present from his wife
Her smile radiant
as the fungus growing on cave walls
Her spritely step a reminder of her failure in pottery
A fragile shell of vase sulks deep within the kitchenette
the only reminder of a simpler, uglier time
The fridge bites at his fingers
It's cold
worse than usual
Something in cling wrap demands his attention
Whatever it is calls to mind the Las Vegas of fast food franchises, coming to a highway near you
He places the plate within the microwave
A small box conceived of something plastic and something metal
Allegedly Radiation proof
His wife would prove different
She saw it on display
At one of those morbid strings of matchbox houses
villages of empty homes
He recalls the giant poster
The smiling male and female persons standing neutered at least one foot apart (at all times)
No touching
the paths of their smiles never crossing their minds facing outward and away
Bing dinner is ready
" lounge for one"
Don't mind if I do
"Would you like to see out specials?"
Just hand me the remote!
A collection of poems and musings by a rookie poet and constant dreamer - J.O.S.H
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