Man with a Microwave

Part I

He was a big-headed man with a microwave in his hand.

Part II

A vagrant with a suped-up portable appliance reconfigured trash into melted trash for fun

Part III

Like a scientist in the lab turning lady's shoes into a solid brick of bees. Like toes with mouths chewing egg shells and sprouting smelling stickers on the nail. Like a stomach pumping gastric juice on pandas that giants eat and belch out parades for children. Like the chasm in the couch cushions stealing change and funding research on the sweat that shines on sleeping foreheads. Like the scratches on the back in the picture in the book in the box buried in a yard beneath wicker skeletons of clowns. Like charged eyes watching men with orange hair, seven of the them, walk single file to the store. Like the conversations of thick coats in the off season safe in musty darkness. Like cool water trickling from the noses of helpful friends and centaurs. Like the glue between a suspicious stop sign and tickled brown eggs. Like excellent spices sprinkled atop large mounds of toy trucks and hibernating bigfoots and other things young boys write tenderly in diaries about. Like Wisconsin sharp cheddar thrown at high velocity at the reheated burgers leaking slurred orders to recast the verb and introduce the fuming tooth to a pack of loose teens simmering in a ditch trying to fly a kite tied to a sunkist bottle over crags catch a breeze or keep running to maintain height like he would but it's winter so he stays inside to microwave burritos and think about how everything he sees is just being caught sliding through its way to anything else.