Monday, October 15, 2012

Three Minute Poem

The author of tongue’s own biography
would indicate a disturbed way of eating
with blotches of minimal hearts,
out of branded rats, fist first line pineapple.

It’s a “beautiful day” for nothing to happen
 in.   Poured some liquid whites into a coffee
mug and large pinch of shredded Lowfat
cheese and microwaved it for two minutes
with turkey bacon.  Wrapped bacon in Eggo.

Yes, CNN was distracting. The women on
 television also appeared in invented
 scenarios where you got to meet 
them.  I was an adult when 
my parents divorced or so I was told.   

Amidst a flurry of after school jitters, 
hovering over cupboards, I could have
easily emptied and eaten all the cracker packs.   

 Reached for another stack of dry noodles 
and ate them without the foil package 
of seasoning.  The noodles just loosen, 
slowly in a flat brine of city water. 

There are places you will never go with me, 
no matter how many times you ask, 
or how hard you eat.   

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