Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Self-Serve

Self-Serve

Waiter, I wanted to shovel
ice cubes onto my frozen yogurt,
but that tray in the topping bar
is full of water. I want some of
everything, the lava sprinkles,
the chocolate-covered worry dolls,
the crushed up suncatchers and
their suction cups. Can the spoon
be any smaller, please, I’d like
a baby spoon. Food-flavored
food, essence of cotton candy
whipped into ice cream, pink
grapefruit gelato, pill-bitter,
waiter, where’d you go. I’d
like a dish of banana split-
flavored ice cream, chocolate,
strawberries pre-blended before
I chew, I’d like my stomach
to be my mouth.

5 comments:

  1. Rich and hilarious. For me, it spins one way whimsically, with innocence and abundance, and another way, ironically, as social commentary or cautionary tale. I've seen those self-serve ice cream machines at buffets...

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  2. Love the end=line...I will call this the bossy poem : )

    love it

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  3. Awesomely points out a kind of absurdity. The ending was perfect, really pulled everything together.

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