Match-Fade

 

Match-Fade

 

   Outside my window, on the ledge,

   is a matchbook

   that has been there

   for seven years.

   Seven years while I sat here and typed

   and shuffled these papers

   (these mindless and desperate papers!)

   Day on day I saw this folded paper book,

   buried in snow, tugged by stiff wind,

   never moved by more than an inch.

   I sat here, my life going to this dull task,

   helped onward by that faded red book of matches,

   (advertising a now closed Chinese restaurant).

   A source of laughter and inspiration;

   the only confidant

   in this office workers life...

   It was my favorite secret

   and I'll never really be able to explain to anyone

   that I killed the window washer for throwing it away.

Author's Note

In a great coincidence the captcha for this submission was "overtoil".