By Bruce Boston
1 September 2000
I open the refrigerator and instead of food
it is stocked with automatic weapons
and hand guns and ammunition.
I make love to my wife and find
that she has a third eye
where her navel should be.
I have a clock that makes a different noise every hour.
Sometimes it sings like a bird.
Sometimes it is a train pulling into a station.
At least once a day it is a bullfight or a shuttle launch.
I take it to a jeweler's to have it fixed.
He tells me not to fool with it or it will melt.
I have a giant flea for a pet.
It has little dogs running around on it.
When I turn on the TV the stereo comes on.
When I turn on the stereo the toaster heats up.
When I pop a slice of split-topped wheat into the toaster
the garbage disposal begins devouring itself.
I have all of this memorized.
It changes every day.
At the back of my walk-in bedroom closet
there is a giant zipper that runs
vertically from the floor to nearly the ceiling.
I have never touched it.
The author of twenty-six books, Bruce Boston has published in hundreds of magazines and anthologies, including Asimov's SF, Weird Tales, Pushcart Prize Anthology, Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, and the Nebula Awards anthology. In 1999 the Science Fiction Poetry Association honored him with the first Grand Master Award in its twenty-two year history. He would be delighted if you sent him mail.