The Cheese Robber

And I stood there in a place

Known to be a place for the

Discussion & musings on Aesthetics

A tickling of my cap by a

Meandering vine bare of leaf

Beneath the rustle of dry inhabitants

Still clinging to the tree.

In a small town calling itself

A City.

I am, tonight, the cheese robber.

I let myself into a quiet house,

Helped myself to an empty, gilded,

Ornamental glass and filled it

With my wine. Next, i pulled

Open the silent door, peering over

The cool contents of the ease of

Domesticity in a self-proclaiming

‘First world’. Cheese is what i

Sought, and in this chamber of

Extended delights, i strike gold,

Of the aged and forgotten kind,

The husk of cheese, beginning

To sprout blossoms, patches, blooms

Of green, a garden of the forgotten

A delight to me, the robber

Of cheese.

A horn toots once, outside, very

Nearby, and i comfortably wonder

If i am to be found, sitting

Here, musing about my recent, and simple


Where to next time? I ponder with

Casual ease. I hope to tell you

Because i take pleasure in this, this

Kind of robbery. I steal chunks of cheese,

And pleasure my palate with your

Slabs, hunks, wrapped treasures,

Directly, immediately, yet slowly,

With my own glass of wine, in your

Own home, when all is quiet, but

For the faint ringing and

Peripheral droll of electronica

Emanations from power lines snaking

Through and into so many

Places, even here around

Me in this quiet, living room.

-Ibnar A. Avilix

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Author: Genese Grill

Genese Grill is the editor of 05401PLUS.