the balloon, a poem

the mylar balloon was tied to power lines,

bobbing up and down like a buoy

playing with the tension of

a metaphor in a poem

and a potential blackout for a block of homes


my fingers grip the steering wheel

but construction merged the street

into a one lane road,

so I leave home early to

sit and wait in traffic,

staring at the balloon


there's bubbling blisters residing

on my right thumb

and the patch of skin

before my toes start to sprout


I dropped a Trader Joe's frozen pizza

while pulling it out of the oven last night,

the goopy cheese clung to my skin

and marinara splattered like

molten lava across the tile floor


all because of the three hundred twenty five foot

tubing order

the customer requested in one foot lengths


the warehouse often leaves me handicapped


yet here I am

again

staring at the mylar balloon

bobbing up and down

and if I look carefully

it seems to be growing

closer to the wire

everyday.

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