The flattened cardboard box
that a downward glance reveals
during my evening walk contained,
according to the block lettering
on its side, one escape ladder,
which might, I think, be exactly
what i need right now, except…
I wonder where I would attach it
and where it would lead
and whether it would be like
those Acme gadgets that proved
so disastrous for the coyote
in all those old Roadrunner cartoons
I saw as a kid, and what—since
the box is empty—happened to it anyway…
I hope it worked for someone, but that
they held on to the receipt just in case.
Copyright 2021
T. Allen Culpepper
Poetry When It Comes 