I slip inconspicuously into a hardware store on a summer morning. Look fondly at bags of #10 flat-head screws used for sheet metal work then I tread in my shiny patent leather shoes into the Tupperware aisle admiring there each and every piece.

After some drinks
if he smashes his fist
on their Olive Garden table
and slurs an insult,

The sun touches everything
and yet you can’t quite see it. I never knew

how a child’s voice could break up the silence

The clocks are stopped
still you know it’s time
to take down the leashes
and walk the whimpering dogs

You can no longer get there
and if you did
you wouldn’t know it