That’s another story timing the pace to match the waste of time
She makes a box of remembered sounds catapulting across the room
And stores them in measured rows of lines of time with tentacles reaching the floor
Its not the seemingly nonsense that drives her to beserk-dom but the seemingly sense it all makes
Take that and that she says and jousts her thoughts into the paper lid that forms the tray of her mind
Pulling it out like drawers in the mortuary the morgue the home of the funeral director and associates
Examining it like the rock collection of her youth the butterfly cases of the PhD the recipes snipped clipped
But that’s another story
This story speaks of wasted time lounging on chairs and couches in front of firelight and TV ions
The dryer rocks the clothes dry the washer beats it clean knocking the detergent to the floor
It needs to be balanced that’s all but how how to balanced she’s not the tools
The fridge ice frozen in the line and the disposal as well stopped in time no action from either all quiet
She’ll do it later get the guy who fixes things to come by and not fix it but says next time
And fixes something not broke and charges her anyway and cleans the gutters but sweeps the yard instead
Its this nonsense that makes the most sense padding around in hospital socks non slip to slip into his arms
What do you think a movie and dinner or just the *** you know the blood won't flow to both
And she hops on and hears her stomach growl it’s a trade he’ll do it next time the movie she means
The dinner ingredients dry up in the frozen fridge and she muscles the dryer to clean the vent
She’ll get the guy to come fix it but he doesn’t do appliances so he’ll fix something else that’s not broken
And says I wont charge you as much this time I’ll bring the brush to clean out the dryer so it can rock the clothes
But that’s the story the other story of her tender soft spots making memories in boxes pulled out like drawers
Her drawers on the floor as he rocks her like clothes in the dryer around and around up and down tumbled and dried
Moist to the fingertips her memories linger scent upon scent crouching to see why the fridge is frozen
Under the peas and the tiny ice tray frozen in dinosaur shapes are piles of ice in bags awaiting the storm
Take it all out take it all to the counter and you tube the answer to the quest but end up couched crouching
Not seeing what the camera shows so she’ll call the guy and he’ll help her put the peas back and not charge at all
This time