A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
While she’s in the dungeon below, torturing her foolish body, streams her half hour daily workout from trainer to phone through Roku to tv, I slip into the refrigerator freezer, retrieve the double fudge 'Moose Tracks', her faux 'Mackinaw Island', ice cream and sit at the kitchen table, pull that lid off and let humidity that she helps produce soften the blend. I roll open the silverware drawer, select a spoon, sit and listen. Weights with sleeves slide on lifted bars, collide with iron, mid grunts, as her trainer yells instructions. I use my instrument to ply within tender cardboard, draw down even the level of the sweet, churned fare. My son slinks past and I knowingly wink, as he removes one of her peanut butter, chocolate chunk cookies from the big box store container. I cringe because he is not as stealth. But, her ears must be consumed with a body's regret from neglect. We consume a timely dessert together, clean up with time to spare. She’ll know something is missing, but not just yet. She earns her guilt after she arrives back from her work. I'll have a devilish grin to share, then. 7.1.21 7.6.21 edit |