mrs. kolochskie's kitchen

there was a
dream of a
backyard tarped
curious mound in
ominous moonlight

when lifted the
tarp revealed the
miniature television set of
mrs. kolochskie's kitchen and
cookie scented air

there was a
wide expanse of a
held-breath audience
out there, in the deepest
darkness

there was an
apron
you put it on
despite the stains
there was a
devein knife
it fit comfortably
in your hand

there is a
dream under a
tarp with a
long commercial break
where you just sit, with
gumbo on your mind
and wait
for all the shrimps
to come