in the kitchen I hear

a low whir

existing in the gaps between
our limbs and tax brackets

our hair follicles and automobiles
pulsing as we blink. at night

we decide to stretch out
at the Strip to

find last minute Christmas
gifts. a light rain hums

and drips on the
cracked glass of our

black stock sedan. the lots
creep and crack with

SUVs and hatchbacks. in
the bookstore, souls

circumvent each other. all
fingernails and scarves,

eyebrows and credit cards. we
meet a cashier with a red face,

her chatter is without pause, she
smiles as we nod and soak

in the vibrations, an oasis
each spur, clack and

buzz, another connection
to one another, skin cells

and cul-de-sacs– Earth,

life and death

2 responses to “in the kitchen I hear”

  1. Vivid imagery! Beautiful! …; -)

    1. thank you so much, friend!

Leave a Reply