Another victim of obsolescence
lies prone by the curb,
its face of doors ripped off,
kissing dirt with a maw of open shelves,
this position for benefit
of neighborhood kids
who might mistake the dark steel closet
with no escape or air
for a time machine.

Just days before, I defrosted it –
yes, the old style –
watching water drip into the pan,
as ice caps melted,
microcosmic global warming

The new fridge, enviro-friendly,
fills the kitchen gap now.
The old relic passes on, hefted
onto a public-works hearse
to the landfill graveyard,
crumbling to worms of rust
till the freon, colorless spirit
leaves the body, and rises
through a hole in the softening poles.

10/14/2001

Posted on 10/14/2001
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt