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Pants zip

Oven beeps

Potato chips crunch

Dog barks

Forks clink

Knives clang

Forks and knives

Damned forks and knives

Pass the peas, Steven.

What did she say?

Sounds as if I am underwater

Or perhaps she is

Pass the peas, Steven.

But that clock on the wall

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Maybe it’s she who’s broken

Pass the peas, Steven.

I think she sounds angry

But the television is much too loud to tell

Pass the peas.

Pass the peas.

The peas.

Eyes bulge and roll

Nostrils flare

Face reddens

Hairs stand on end

I’m almost sure she’s angry

If only they’d turn down that television

Green. Round. Small.

Those. There.

No. There.

Pass the peas, damnit.

But I know the peas. I like them.

They are small, and green, and silent.

Keep to themselves, really.

Don’t demand much attention.

A reserved sort of vegetable.

And so still, so stationary.

Yes, I know the peas. I like them.