It was a humdrum graphite morning.
The subsidiary showed up late
And tired. Her head kept falling
Out of its orbit and into
The ventilation queue. When the
Astronaut stopped to take off
His make-up, he presented her
With a décolletage of primrose
Petals on a cracked vitrine.
They entwined themselves on the lattice
Only to recoil a bit when an erratic
Dilettante usurped their handholds.
With an adroit maneuver, they
Sandwiched the euphemism between
His anxiety and her euphoria.
The cordial they squeezed from
Their union induced lightheadedness.
They cut out the obit, pasted it
On the last page, then folded the page
In half, folded the corners into triangles
And flicked it across the kitchen table.