This reality show deafens the nerves.
Numb devices generate the blinding bells,
Pistons aflame, these exotic auctioneers
Jar me in their processed velocity.
The pace they travel.
I’ve got to get my cupcakes for the crowds
We hesitated to inform all afternoon.
They wait for us to get our act together,
But I’ve got nothing to instruct me.
The minutes stomp and I only think of canning
Winter’s tomato stock. “Enough to last the year.”
