freeze-frame and the teleological clockwork of a dismissible moment

Clarksville orthodontist pouring oysters out of the woven sack
like he takes his slippers off on 5th Street and Vine in a burst of chorus
smiling signposts laughing at the beginning of time, indicted with the bladesmith
ticks up and down the ceiling with the fingertips of lidocaine salesmen
dropping off the piano for the children after the divorce settlement
aggrieved and shallow as the doorbell hums Chopin along its ailing arch
“we were never meant to be happy,” demonstrates the wide-eyed umbrella posture
“no, not in this timeline,” answers his wife of 24 years, as she turns back
handing off his groceries to the children, they will eat and sing, “Cecilia,”
throwing out the turned milk to partial Paul Simon blues, adamant, and resurrected