Derrick thrusts his hands
deep into his pockets
and arches his neck back
taking in the plaster ceiling
with an expansive eye
Its tough
he says
so quiet
The showroom
a mausoleum
displays
gaudy caskets
open and beckoning
The counter
cleaned and gleaming
awkwardly uncluttered
Rachel stares
at her monitor
pointedly ignoring
the invisible hand
resting upon her shoulder
telling her its almost time
to go
3 comments:
mmm. there are a lot of people around feeling like this. I like the funeral parlour analogy. It's very clever.
It's quite a treat to read so many of your poems at one go.
I had a poetic splurge *grin*
A rare thing these days, thanks, I quite like the simplicity of this one, just a moment in time, captured :)
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