wake for a refrigerator


something standing in a house
eight years unmoving
should be family–
we all have those people
we cannot move easily,
stubbing toes
sometimes on their hard edges
& them without the grace or ability
to apologize for it (in fairness,
it was our toes kicking them
after all)

either way
something should be said
about the fridge dying
besides a bitter complaint
that the beer is warm as piss
as the scrapper wheels the corpse
out the door, like maybe
thanks for all the ice cream

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