Chapter 10 poem 18 Apocryphilia

Coming Home in the Evening

She tripped in the door.

From the sofa the gingerbread man turned

his rigid silhouette toward the doorway,

looking askance.  He gestured for her to sit 

on the seat of pins and needles 

next to him.

The smell of the burning dinner

came from the kitchen

'I'll clean that up in two shakes of a lamb's tail'

- her grandmother said things like that -

and off she went.

The Gingerbread Man didn't like her doing that.                               

He offered her the remote control,

she could push the buttons and everything.

But off she ran to  clean up the burnt soup.

She sure had a mind of her own.

When she came back

the Gingerbread Man had an upside down smile

and one of his black currant eyes had fallen off.

He looked lopsided and queer

and sinister.

He offered her the seat of pins and needles.

Again.

The remote control

and computer were on the other seat

so she had no choice.

'Kiss me,' he said.

She contemplated the upside down smile;

muddy, pink frosting that would stay like grit in her mouth.

'Better go check the washer,' she said

and dashed away.

The Gingerbread Man complained

that she always had something better to do.

With his black current eye, brown stumpy arms 
crossed as best he could,

he looked at the t.v. and pushed the buttons

on the remote control.