It's Still Life

Miz Quickly is counting down from 7 (this is 6) until she closes shop, calls early doors, and goes fishing. Or plays baseball, possibly. I don’t think she’ll be using a bicycle though; Fred has it, and he’s disappeared into a low horizon. Anyway, the Miz wants drab. Peculiar. Mundane. I give you a paper plate wedged on a log.

 
The Remains of the Day

A white paper plate
with a stain of ketchup
is wedged under the footbridge.
The remains of that day —
the remains stuck
like a diamond-point needle
repeating three measures
of the same song on an LP.
No where to go but
here-and-here-and-here,
here in a mangled groove,
caught on the slow current,
and stuck on a log. Jammed.
And I’m captivated, clinging
to its déjà vu. We’re both
caught by chance repetition.
Stuck in the tow of this moment,
waiting for a change. An escape
from this teddy bear’s picnic.