There is a consumer product demon in the trash underneath my sink.
The other day, I tossed in a wrapper from a Quest 20-protein-gram nutrition bar and a hand reached up to grab it.
Thinking I was daydreaming I pulled out the white plastic Rubbermaid trash basket; no hand, but the ¼ cup of Kraft Fast Mac tossed in yesterday was moving, undulating.
It made a distinct voice-y sound like “You’ll like Mac-a-lot, so eat me!” Thinking this was just my overactive poetic imagination I turned to the sink.
My JetZScrubber had wrapped around a spoon dancing in circles around the In-Sink-Erator drain while the Ajax Easy-Hands Dishwashing Liquid spewed bubbles in unison.
Now convinced I took too much acid in college I ran upstairs where my dog Mr. Brown sleeps on his 44” x 36” leopard-print GoodDogBed. “Howdy, partner,” Brown chimed. “Sure is a fine day to go for a walk using that Halti multi-loop leader and Sprenger prong collar. Yes, I love ‘em.”
I took Mr. Brown to the dog park. the one with the Safe-Steel chain link fence and the pine trees without labels. He pooped in the sawdust and vocalized in his hound voice. I could have sworn he said, “Glad I didn’t do that on the L.L.Bean Woven Nylon Area Rug,” but I wasn’t sure.
Nothing moved except the wind in the trees. and I wondered what to call it.
I think I have completely lost it. But, if the Flaming Lips can write Yoshimi vs. the Pink Robots, I can write this poem.