Brown-handled scissors,
Used twist ties,
National Park expired pass.
The new fishing license tsks, hand on hip
“Whenever I see someone, less fortunate than I,”
The washer nudges the screw
“What’s with this guy?”
The license twirls around, sexy pose,
“And let’s face it, who isn’t less fortunate than I?”
The asparagus rubber band blushes a deeper blue
“My tender heart tends to start to…..”
Muffled swish.
The building shed brochure,
Brushing off dust
From the narrow space,
Winks at the blue band.
Light shafts in.
Scissors, pass, washer, etc.
Shift from opening.
“Honey, have you seen my fishing license
“I think it’s in the junk drawer.”
Little jazz hands
Drumming at the space
Under the drawer
Unheard.
Put Out to Pasture 