Muggy days of last week
mid July
wore down everybody
in a giant pressure cooker.
Mr T not his usual self
his mind tossed into a
searing labyrinth
with lapses of his memory
stepping aside his promises.
The muggy atmosphere
downtown
has laid the active minds
into slumber.
Neither yesterday nor
today
business seems to run
as smoothly as it used to
at the Art Shop
abandoned by the staff’s
absence.
Yet Mr T today reaches into
his dressing gown’s pocket
and pays me the minimal
amount anticipated
complaining his mind not
working properly.
At times he amazes us
recalling details from his
youth
but forgetting what he did
a few minutes ago.
B has walked to Lower Wei’s
shopping area to buy some
groceries
indicating she would prep us
a delicious meal.
Now what’s the catch?
Tired from the day’s activities
I still feel fine
but sense the tit for tat
services from this competition
of one spouse for some
financial benefit to further
her fashion hunger.
After all she could never reach
her dream becoming a
professional model and
an independent fashion designer
creating her own brand.
She had great talent but missed out
to secure pecuniary support.
Is she competing besides some
common survival
with my own creative output
in the arts?
In spite of what she calls
Mental coitus interruptus
I have also not yet collapsed
From oscillating heat and cold
B calls: Yo-Yo weather.
Yo-Yo.oY-oY
zoltanzelan
©ZJG-POetry’17.
