my hands splash in to
silver and suds
in attempts to rinse
blues caked in grease
away for a while
lights never dim
at least not until the end
but by then
silver and suds
drained and put in place
where is the proper face
which might bear the weight
of the next billion bubbles
and the lightning flash of humor
conceived in yet another
macaroni and cheese
don't deny the happy customer
their place in all the unformed lines
never seen and absolutely
impossible to trace
until two feet lead directly
out the door
meanwhile exhaustion doubles, triples
and the play is always at home
like the catcher in the rye
might have said the very same thing
just keep temptation checked in back
of the freezer
"...the play is always at home." Good stuff, Tim. *
Thanks Mathew. This one spilled out of the sink!
Love this part:
lights never dim
at least not until the end
but by then
silver and suds
drained and put in place
where is the proper face
which might bear the weight
of the next billion bubbles
the lightning flash of humor
conceived in yet another
macaroni and cheese
This is one of those poems you could play around with by rearranging stanzas and have more than one version.
"and the lightning flash of humor conceived in yet another macaroni and cheese" I detest macaroni and cheese, but love it here!
This is great. Many thanks, Samuel and Kitty.
Enjoyed
The last stanza. **
Thank you Gary and Rachna K.
*You got me with the title and kept me right there with you, Tim.
Awesome, Nonnie. Thanks.