Friday Takeaway

I opened it looking for tape.

Found batteries, twist ties, and a key to nothing.

Every house has one drawer

that cannot be governed.

The print is tiny.

The lighting is romantic, which means useless.

I hold the menu farther away

like distance might improve seafood options.

It tells me about tomorrow.

Then later today.

Then fifteen minutes before.

At some point,

I feel managed by a rectangle.

I swear I had room last spring.

Now every shelf looks surprised by its own contents.

Tools multiply in darkness.

So do extension cords.

A cool breeze through an open window.

No fan.

No button.

Just the house breathing a little.

# # #

A few more you can read without rushing: