he sets aside
an hour
every afternoon for
arts and crafts.

quiet time
to create.

pensively gluing
macaroni noodles to
the construction paper
in seemingly
random

places
until the scene
he sees
comes
to life.

once

he knocked over
the plastic vial of glitter
sending
tiny pieces of
silver and green
like an avalanche
across
the floor.

with
every shuffling step
to get the broom
he sends
little whirlwinds
that catch the light
like a tired stripper
passing gas
after
a long shift.

there is a
quiet beauty to it,
he realizes
as he imagines her
creating little
puffs of art
in the most inane
possible way.