Domestic Tranquility
by Brian U. Garrison

That's the dream.

The get rich overnight

scheme. Leaving out

supplies unsupervised.

Flopping down the welcome mat,

 

"Hello Gnomes!"

for the trusty team

who cobbles your shoes,

then slips back home

in the pre-morning darkness.

 

A silent, adorable workforce

devouring bread crumbs.

You, the benevolent

so-called shoemaker

whose cup over-floweth,

 

dripping sticky red spots

on the floor. The gnomes

will lick them up later.

You imagine their gratitude,

sipping your expensive wine.