"Home Entertainment"
More than convenient,
certainly efficient,
and yes, certainly healthful.
My new refrigerator is sleek, muscular,
and handsome,
looking like a college athlete
who took a summer job
as a bellhop.
It's my very own Entertainment Center
and It
insists that I don't need
flashing X-mas lights,
the internet,
or roving drones
for my amusement.
But only to listen to the wonders of
Its daily life.
And what wonders does my refrigerator behold!
Although brand new,
Its Collective Unconscious is vast
and attuned to the life-giving contents
that I buy for It.
It gives voice,
yes voice,
to the sumptuous fare
that would ordinarily sit obediently mute,
waiting to be taken home
like a row of forlorn puppies.
I hear brightly colored bell peppers,
gurgle and whisper excitedly,
like frogs convening in a pond
on the eve of Summer Solstice.
I hear tortillas,
hovering and whining,
like UFOs in search of
intelligent life,
only to be disappointed,
again . . .
I hear spinach,
sighing, pleading,
asking to live for just one more week,
one more day,
with its vegetable brethren,
knowing its beauty is
fleeting.
I hear eggs,
knowing their fate all too well,
speak in impassioned cries
that echo the tent revivals of the
turn-of-the-century Midwest,
replete with shouting
and dramatic healings.
I hear onions,
speak of their power
to delight and seduce me into every meal,
like wolves howling at night
in canonic incantation.
I hear frozen turkey burgers,
pounding and pulsating,
trying to motivate resistant dancers
into states of rhythmic exhaustion,
men and (mostly) women glancing themselves in mirrors,
while a trainer commands and cajoles
over heaving music.
Yes, I confess,
I will probably get
flashing X-mas lights,
internet,
and roving drones
for my amusement.
But for now,
I am content
to listen to the wonders
of my Entertainment Center
and Our daily lives.
July 2018
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©2018,
Michael Smolens