I was in an art museum once. I saw a black and white picture hanging on the wall. It was of a potato. Nothing else. Just a potato. I was angry at first. I had just meandered through an exhibit of miniature houses that must have taken hundreds of hours to complete and a crazy amount of attention to detail. This person took a picture of a potato. I thought of what my hipster friends would say. “It’s isn’t just a potato. It’s so much more. It’s art. It probably stands for famine or the Depression or a childhood friend...” No. It is a picture of a potato. I thought I would jump on the bandwagon. So here is my poem: Potato.