suburban life

orange juice

in a glass cup

on the formica kitchen counter:

a wedding ring sits

beside it

inside the sterile white

refrigerator

two squares of chocolate

lie in wait

of doomsday

the computer blinks

and yawns

still sleepy from

the teenage antics of its

owner

petty sidewalk argument

underneath the Converse covered

feet the cement reads

lisa and mia forever

as if

the radio next to the stove

slowly succumbs to oblivion

as the gas

left on

eats it into static

with a train whistle

and the clatter of suitcase wheels

and the last flap of a warm coat

as a suburban wind whips around her

she leaves

they all lived ever after