Poetry Sunday: Where's that thing by John Kenney

I laughed out loud when I read this poem last week. It sounds so familiar. It's just like some of the conversations my husband and I have. Does anyone else have conversations like this?


Where’s that thing?
by John Kenney
Where’s that thing?
you ask me
looking in the cabinet above the stove.
The new one or old one, I reply,
fairly sure you know what I mean.
Old one.
Under the sink.
It’s not there.
Just look.
I’m looking.
Look under that stuff.
It’s not here.
The other stuff.
Nope.
Wait. You mean the green one?
No. Blue. I think it’s blue.
Oh. That’s in the drawer.
I checked the drawer.
Did you check behind the plastic thing?
We’re talking about the same thing, right, the one with the
   weird top?
Of course.
Wait. Here it is.

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