The Russian winter white dwarf hamster is unaware he's going nowhere.  He climbs aboard the wheel, leans into it, excited about travel and surprise, new vistas, exotic foods.  He's hoping for a shapely mate at the other end of the endless moving sidewalk, a nice smelling female amenable to snuggling and more.  This makes him run faster, hope in the distance, love waiting, tiny claws digging in.  But he is disappointed.  Again.  The new realm is strikingly parallel to the old one.  And the one before that.  Furniture is arranged similar.  The same food is served, water spigot, too.  The big hand looks nearly identical.  Is this how the world is ordered?  Modular, structured, equivalent?  He retreats to the new nest, same as the old nest, to consider things and plan tomorrow's journey, running farther to find a place he's sure is out there.

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo: Mylius

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