Life is a vending machine
that disguises my choices
as panda-painted Chow Chows.
My selections are stuck
in the cogwheels of karma.
It dispenses time declining
in a form that I can’t stomach.
And it never ever
gives me back my change.
inspired by the day 25 prompt, haunted vending machine, in the Garden of Neuro Institute Poetry Circle, and
published in Substack:
The conceit works perfectly, however broken the vending machine. What is stolen, what is lost in the "cogwheels of karma" is something experience never prepares us for. What a brillinat use of extended metaphor, Nolcha!
~~ Dora
"My selections are stuck
in the cogwheels of karma."....As Time marches on everything will be sorted out hopefully. Smiles. Sumana
Oh that image at this time in the afternoon when I would love a n unhealthy snack. LOL. Our choices in life can be that random and yet, when all is said and done, they seem to get us to where we need to be. I enjoyed your poem.