Day 844, October 24, 2022

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The Future

A microwave meal is a terrible thing. 
It is like riding a bicycle on under inflated tires, 
swimming in a stagnant pond, 
shaving with a bar of soap, 
cutting your nails with little scissors, 
owning a deep fryer, 
the smell of a birthday candle burning itself into the frosting, 
an out of tune string ensemble, 
testicle pain, 
a stained sweatshirt of your alma matter, 
a damp log, 
a long flight of stairs to your seat at the top edge of the stadium, 
a dentist’s praise, 
forgetting your reading glasses in the car when visiting the restaurant, 
stopping at the farm stand when it is no longer corn season, 
a bath towel that never dried, 
an ambitious nose hair. 
Someday, we will not remember that.



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