The little box of nonsense
Table 42 at the Pioneer café. Coffee beans roasting.
Scents of pleasing delight.
The magician's box on the table.
Slowly removing its lid. Excitement!
Hand reaches into the wondrous box and grabs hold of item one.
Same hand is covered in foam with stuffed cars.
Amazement!
Shaking off the foam, watching the cars drive off as they hit the ground.
Reaching for the second item.
Liquid substance again, singing songs of yesterday.
Water in shades of teal and indigo.
The memory tastes like chicken.
Last item retrieved.
There she was!
Closing the lid.
Excuse us. We are close(d) for a while.
Niels
Mr. ZIP’s Windy Day
11 hours ago
I don't quite see how you got your phrase: "The little box of nothing", unless you originally had written 'nothing of box little the' - which seems unlikely.
ReplyDeleteThe phrase, however, does work really well. It frames (boxes) the strange surrealist happenings in the poem. Very imaginative language there - the only thing that doesn't quite work for me are the stuffed cars...
Funny, too - having the memory taste like chicken. Excellent!