Microwave Michael
Microwave Michael wanders aisles
His single lifestyle dictates
There must be plastic on his plate
The digital clocking off
late
he shifts uneasy
In a supermarket state of confusion
Florescent lamp cold
Curled fingers hold wire
Baskets fold handles
By tills
Choices, instant vitamin pills
Sunday roasts
The atrocious toasts
And the ills of
frozen gravy lazy
chicken ready meal for one
mounted upon
Solid state and silicon
Revolving
A white Platter
To the vendor
It does not matter
That he is lonely
Michael has embraced
The furious pace
Of the modern man
And his vacant housewife
Lives only in imagination
Yet is real in desire
Like traditional cooking
And coal fires
No time in the modern age
A missing ring 3rd finger
Clinks bars an imaginary cage
become prisoners
Yet there is no escape
From the bland
4 minute wonder
The mini meal cellophane lid
Is torn,
seeps steam when born
a soggy frown
and a palette worn out
by chemicals
yet sharp for the taste
of something real.
Michael lonely
Cooks
On Full 850w
plastic, microwave meal.
Francine
Mon 3rd Aug 2009 13:53
Sad... but so true for many.
Love these lines:
'It does not matter
That he is lonely
Michael has embraced
The furious pace
Of the modern man
And his vacant housewife
Lives only in imagination
Yet is real in desire'