I do not walk
I drip my legs in front of
one another as one
squeeze of honey
gooey
do not touch me
you will smell me
the next time your
mother washes your mouth out with soap
she won’t understand why her baby’s sweet coo’s
taste better with a little crunch
some toast, some granola
I do not form
I merely hold
combine
the jagged pieces
of confusing juice together
call me Elmer