I suppose what I mean to ask is
when will you get it,
when will the cartoon lightbulb
twitch its gift above your heads

so I can pour the little of me
into the many hands you possess
for approval, the scoring
of boxes that do it all for you,

and is it all worth it, I suppose
I should ask. Will you discard
like a bare crisp packet,
tasted and wasted, replaced

by a glossier prospect, the glass
of champagne pricked with bubbles,
and they can pour themselves to you
in a more delicious, refreshing way.