Microwave

I spend a second in your flair
like an intelligent animal
fascinated by chrome.

I change the channel; turn away;
turn on the microwave,
a sea of chemistry
moving between me
Beijing and the monster
movie clawing at my
heel.

The cat just ate a moth.
An animal crooned in the gorge.

The flow of instincts
is channeled down the
main wire blue line
crossing the red line
somewhere between a cell
phone tower and Starbucks.

I spend $3.95.

I spend my life in your
illusion,

distracted.