friday night

there's one beer
left
in the fridge.
a single cold brown
bottle on the rack.
a half of sandwich.
ham and cheese.
a pickle or two floating
in the brine
and green water
of a round jar.
there's mustard
and ketchup.
old lettuce ready
for the can.
four eggs, a white
box of white
rice
from west hunan.
what to choose as my
stomach
growls, my thirst grows.
what
says Friday night
as I lean into the cold
light of the box.
I grab a beer
and shut the door.