Perhaps a brief rest upon the poetic possibilities of open space, a silent meditation on the loneliness of the milk carton, would assuage the public humiliation of the revelation of the Frigidaire.
Yes, the pain of admission, the blush of shame, is less distressing than the stark horror of entering the grocery store. If the public were allowed to glimpse through the open fridge door , standing in your kitchen, would they ever look you in the eye again? What would happen if they caught a momentary olfactory tease, just the tiniest whiff , of the bread blooming into bacteria-fighting glory, would anyone ever shake your hand again?
Would your neighbor, the charming older woman with a bichon-frise, gently blue tinted hair, protected from her recent setting at the salon by a clear plastic rain hat with plastic ties under the chin , her name is Eloise but you always call her Mrs. Hendricksson, after wafting the scent of moldy bread after glimpsing into the open refrigerator when feeding your cat while you were away: would Mrs. Hendricksson forgo further neighborly contact, or would her maternal instincts be aroused, so the moldy loaf of bread and solitary carton of milk would be joined by a casserole, undoubtedly composed of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup and Ritz crackers?
reading: Nineteen for March 19
12. just a whiff13. no way out but through
14. one of those clear plastic folding rainhats, with chin ties
16. keeping silent under pressure
17. how much would you pay to ...
18. glimpse through the door
weather: the final day of winter: wintry mix of snow, sleet, rain, and slight hail