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.
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...
ReplyDeleteLove that end-line!
ReplyDeleteLove the end=line...I will call this the bossy poem : )
ReplyDeletelove it
Yummy! I love it.
ReplyDeleteAwesomely points out a kind of absurdity. The ending was perfect, really pulled everything together.
ReplyDelete