Spooney Story

Its 4am. I m tucked inside a ben and jerry’s red, white and blueberry canister, the ice-cream. Its freezing cold here, frostbite. I am steel but my heart is not anesthetic to temperatures. Sometimes I wish they wash me often and let me have fellowship with forks and knives on dishwasher. We usually gossip about the flavors of liquid dishwashers. I cherish lime but they think it rags their skin and it taste acetic. I am a chief member of culinary committee. We usually form a unison against the plates, we do not like how they paradigm their spherical structures to eat our space. They must realize that we need to lie down and stretch our limbs too, sometimes on the left side so we can see the scenery of trees raising high with a background of blue and white sponges through the window. I do not know what that white smoke is called but it cascades water sometimes. I love to capture that in my memory. Plates and trays block our view but we won’t let capitalism fail us.

​

​

Ayesha Musharaf

20-09-2020