Parameters. We work within them. We manifest beyond them. We shy away from them. We prefer them. We are afraid of them. We live in them. Parameters. We cannot live without them.
The bowl of clementines is normally a translucent brown. Amber in places the light hits it and an opaque bark near the bottom. The hints of rare meat tones come from the formica counter top. It is rare bespeckled with medium rare pieces. There are clues of expiration toward the middle of the medium rare speckles. Those spaces go gangrene, which is still gray. The shadow of the bowl is deep at the outer right edge, but wider still is the top left edge. There is the dark layer of bark mixed with meat where the bowl meats the counter. The darkest place on the surface. Just beyond that deep ring is the lightest part of the shadow. This light pokes through the clementines and again through the glass making fuzzy navels in the middle of the shadow. The rim of the bowl creates the outer edge of the shadow-slightly lighter than the bark meat mixture. The fruit is haphazardly poured into the bowl and unevenly piled with a peak at the back rim of the bowl. It is a mogul run of the black diamond variety. It begins its slope at the apex of the clementine that needs only a brisk wind to tumble from the stack. It is supported underneath and on either side with sibling fruit, whose weight is supported by its immediate conglomerate, who is sitting atop the fruit that struggles for oxygen and rots at the bottom. The tip of the mountain is adorned with a halo of light provided by the track lighting. The external parabolas of light paint rectangular lemons on the basking slope of orange. It is not the largest of objects on that counter.
The coffee jar is the tallest. It is a skyscraper. It is the DD Arena. It is abutted by the Decaf Building on the left. The Sugar Center on the right. Entrance to these buildings is a singular access site. This site is patrolled by the Spoon. The Spoon sits under the sun and it shines its power for all to see. The west edge of the spoon is a blazing silver but only for a sliver, which is adjacent to the crevice of the spoon. The outer edge is barely visible as it thins in space. The handle makes a crimson slab in the counter and is drawn with a ruler. It sits aloof near the edge but is amongst its victims. Granules of sugar and coffee surround the spoon. It is the graveyard. Innocents taken by the spoon and lost in transport. These victims never had a chance. They fell off the spoon and will eventually be wiped away forever. Some souls may make it to the in-between world of the floor. This is a scary place.
On the floor, there are all sorts of nasty things. If you are a granule of coffee or sugar, you are-by default-immobile. To move, you require an external force. There are brooms that create tornados that you can only hope kills you because if it doesn't you will drown by mop. There are creatures that are hunting you, especially when the track lighting goes out for the night. You know all about the creatures because you used to see them from your comfy home in the jar. They used to try and get in to eat you by all means necessary. You would even laugh as they continually tried and failed. When you were young, you never thought of the floor, but as the family got smaller and you got older-the floor is all you thought about-you couldn't escape it. There are giant feet that trample the floor. The feet may just miss you but the earthquake displaces you near a deep canyon. This canyon between the refrigerator and the cabinets is the highway to the danger zone. Maverick wouldn't even make it as a granule of sugar in this place. It’s wide enough for a mouse of considerable size and just big enough for a small rat. Roaches, spiders, earwigs, ants, silver fish, rollie pollies, 1000 leggers-you name it-they are on it. It’s a superhighway. If you don't make it to the floor, there is a place for you as well. The garbage.
The worst of the worst go to the garbage. These were usually guys and gals that just didn't want to be coffee. It is the quest of all granules to be coffee in the end. That’s why the jars were just across the counter from the coffee maker. You could see your goal through the jar. Steam billowing from the top meant that the next batch of good granules succeeded in life. It is all any granule could want. The rest is a mystery. Avoid the garbage. Do your best to avoid the floor. Strive to be boiled and consumed. Parameters.