a chicken in the oven,
a fat roaster
from Kroger's,
then wipe
my hands on my
new apron,
which i bought online from
Martha Stewart's
merch store.
i start
dicing carrots
and potatoes, tossing
about a Ceasar salad,
using my
own recipe for the dressing,
not handed down.
my wife yells at
me from
her easy chair.
she lowers the tv,
and her phone,
taking sips of wine.
we're not having chicken
again,
are we dear?
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