watching well going into worse

it was the same day or another. same loneliness, different day. or so we thought.
didn’t we, said sponge.
think we did, said breadroll.
me too, said block of wood.
all in a sudden everything seemed cute; still lonely though but that’s the scheme of thing.

breadroll closes the drawer while block of wood watches

that’ll be, said breadroll, it. (sharply spoken t, like and explosion).
it, said block of wood, sucks. (spoken as x for an s).

not everyone’s watching you

a breadcrust and a washed-out bottle of beer lingered on, the rest had gone home — a long time ago. this was the impression last night had given and this morning supported.
we should do something with poetry, said sponge, should set the leftovers in a more favourable light.
that would do good, said breadroll.
should we bother entertaining, said sponge.
let’s go, said breadroll.
otherwise, a few blocks down the road a man had mounted his bicycle and was about to take off when he remembered he had forgotten his coat. that would have been a bit of a chill factor, he said. for a second he regretted not having to have anyone to tell the funny incident when he almost took off without his coat ut remembered in time. he cycled on then.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.