Brain Noodles (poetry)

Dripping

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The faucet is leaking again.

Maybe I should check on it, push the handle so far to the left that I’m certain it will break. That should turn the water off.

But I’ve already tried that, sixteen times in the last hour. The handle is off, I swear. And yet…

Drip. Drip. Drip.  

Will it ever stop dripping? I think not. I imagine that the faucet will drip forever, beyond my lifetime, beyond the next.

It will drip even after this house is gone, paved over and redone.

It will last forever, even after humanity had disappeared, after earth is gone, after the sun is gone.

The faucet may as well survive the heat death of the universe just to keep on dripping.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I go to check the handle again, and push it to the side as hard as I can.

Drip. Drip. Plop. Stop. The faucet stops.

And just like that, the dripping is gone.