It’s gonna blow

For weeks I've ignored it

Reaching around it

Overlooking it

Actively avoiding it

But now, it's demanding my attention

It's straining at the seams

It's bulging like a bloated belly

It's ready to explode

Curse my procrastination

And inaction

And depressed malaise

With gentle fingers

I gingerly touch it

Wary of it's hair-trigger

And threat of violence

I hold my breath...

But it does not explode

Gently, I ease it from the shelf

Treating it like a fragile thing

As delicately as a baby bird

Then with smooth footsteps

Like a cat burglar on a roof

I glide to the door

With acute care, I am through

There stands the dustbin

Just ten feet away

nine - down the step

eight - foot on the driveway

seven - avoid the neighbours gaze

six - long to itch the end of my nose

five - steady now we're almost there

four - oooh that was close

three - breathe, breathe, BREATHE

two - so close now

one - Oh darn it

The milk missile explodes