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.
