Day 844, October 24, 2022
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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