Concrete

In the kitchen
expiration dates present
olfactory opportunities
sounds of soffritto and mirepoix linger
clamoring to dignify
our wilting intentions

At the sink
she stink-eyed the wet plate, dripping dirty dish water
indicating a spot on the rim where I missed these toughened little clutches of melted cheddar.
I left her hanging
plate in suspension
refusing the offer,
formulating events I could immediately identify as worse,
far worse,
than a nearly spotless dish

that slipped from her grip
and crashed at our feet
Fuck, what the fuck?
watch it, wait.
Damn you, we thought,
as I sucked my bloody finger.

In the dresser
the diminishing significance of her undergarments

In the bathroom
pain and pills

From here to eternity
kids and bills

conclusions based on highly connotative words.
absent atmosphere, pretext and subtext will fall the same rate
but I need  a bowling ball
dropped on my foot
a claw hammer straight to the knee
my pledge of allegiance to abstract ideas
betrays the concrete she.