Eager to enjoy its oeuvre,
you open the microwave - before it dings
but the display of time remaining
(for the popcorn, leftovers, or a cup of tea)
remains, blinking, incessant
tonight, tomorrow, through your vacation;
verily, the microwave holds out
a lonely numeric vigil
waiting, hoping, dreaming
that one day you'll return,
to become useful one again.
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