From thickset specky windows

he eye-balls

the tough job warp and weft

of the launch pad

as it floats itself

for the copter’s sea-strip.

Then the kitchen’s remodelled

-                    Tony bumps the eggbeater

off its base

buoying the bobbish sponge-backed slab,

hosing it into the bowl

to plane a cruddy pan.

In a fumbling presto

it slips into quick-sight

blades limiting a circle,

a cascade lighting on horizon.

Landing’s right as a trivet.