It's Still Life

An Everywhere Poem: In a Highly Refrigerated Shopping Centre

they’ve given it a name.
a heat dome.

as though we can’t feel
that it’s hot.

some things are simple.

Heat.
It’s hot.
Simple.

mounting a stool
in a restaurant

is not one of them.

‘…is that booth taken?
I’m moving,
if it’s okay with you.

If I fall off this stool,
it’ll put everyone off
their lunch.’

the waiter
is gracious

and probably has
a grandmother
who looks like me.

‘…do I look like
every other woman my age?’
I ask my husband,

who’s staring
at the waiter,

‘We didn’t order that.’

the woman,
approximately my age,
sitting on the stool
I abandoned,

says,

‘that’s mine.
I ordered that.’

I look back
at my husband.

‘I repeat —

do I look like
every other woman
my age?’

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Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up.

Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.