Unseen Melodies

The unseen melodies drift
like dogs in tuxedos
auditioning for an opera
in a bathtub of existential dread.

Have you ever asked a cucumber
about its opinion on time?
Probably not, and therein lies
the irony—deep as
a puddle in a desert of spontaneity.

Whispers of forgotten spreadsheets
declare bankruptcy upon
witnessing the ovation
of pizza boxes in the moonlight.