I am…

I am the banana too long in the bowl.

The punchline too long in the telling.

I am Monday’s meatloaf, this week? last week?, rescued from the back of the fridge.

I am the muddy patch of march snow under the pine tree in the back yard; peed on and half-eaten by the dog.

I am the flat glass of forgotten Prosecco.

The rusty chain of the bicycle that was bought on the promise to be rode.

I am the long pause after the first “I love you” –

the deafening silence…