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What did you expect?

The arborite of tabletop is smooth and cool and even.
Reach now for the shining phone. Feel its warm monolith, tented over in your pocket. For extra reassurance, stroke the disagreeable cat. It is deep velvet, simmering skin, removable whiskers. Only you can elicit its purr, calm its condescending glare. Don’t you dare stop, or forget the filaments of the ear.

Push up, now, from your chair by the fire. Feel and hear the sharp crack of the ankle. The protesting knee, surely out of warranty. Shuffling’s horizon. Whiskers follow you to the kitchen. Treat time for the Terrible Two. Vet says four each. You say “What!? They will kill me in my sleep!” Aha. Four. Not fourteen for these crack addicts. Keep your bedroom door closed tonight, and wear earplugs.

Grip the smooth silver of the fridge door handle. Pull to open. You must be losing weight, ’cause inertia’s not enough now. There. Ahh. Hear the sucking door seal, note the frail flicker of the light. There’s a last bottle of Heineken. It is smooth and cool and even. Sit you down, father. Rest you. Take care not to cut yourself when that twist off cap doesn’t work.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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