I am a charred cabinet.

The quiet of toast burning, interrupted

by the smoke alarm.

I am a scattergram with no best-fit line.

I’m a rubber band ball, a broken


I’m a rusty appliance, a wooden spoon.

Is this how it works?

Plug me in, please.

I am alphabet soup without any vowels.

I am the plastic part of a shoelace.

I am a piece of tape that’s lost it’s stick.

I’m lemonade without the lemons.

Who asked for a presence like mine?

I can’t flow down steps like I should.

It takes longer for me to bounce back.

My steal turned out to be duct tape.

My ripped jeans were not purchased.

Wouldn’t you like to need me?

I’m the odd collection you find in the

drawer next to the refrigerator.

I’m the chapstick you’re happy to find.

I am the organic memory you shelved.

I am the imperfection you can’t live


I am infinite.

I am limited.

I am miscellaneous.

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