In the summertime she sits.
Sweating
In a muggy kitchen,
Wishing for something
She doesn't know what
Yet

She goes to the fridge
And opens the door,
Stares into the air
But reaches for nothing
And stares
Contemplating a half emptied beer
And the Thomas' English muffins,
There nooks and crannies
And an old granny waiting in a motel room
For a groom that never shows
And the honeymoon she's never known.

She bounces the refrigerator door
Against her leg
And contemplates an egg
And the half emptied beer
And the coolness of the air.
How tempting they all are.

She swings the door closed
Pushing it tight
Pirouettes to her chair
And writes
This poem.