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Nov 302015
 

by Joshua Lindenbaum

 

He just checked the knobs on the oven for the fourth time

To make sure they were off

As if his memory cannot be relied upon

As if it were a treacherous deceiver of deceivers

As if he may have turned them on within a micro second of the last time he laid his eyes upon the knobs

Without knowing it? 

 

The short, black, thick lines still point to “off.”

He head nods to each one as if his skull were a checker of sorts. 

As he is about to step out,

He feels a powerful pull:

just one more time. . .

he checks again (of course)

and still

they are off.

Okay, I can go now.